OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 
or  ILLINOIS 


80.8 

uAe>\ 

\907 


Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below.  A 
charge  is  made  on  all  overdue 
books. 


University  of  Illinois  Library 


tiOy  '-■9  '0, 

o. 

- SEP  28  1962 

vi'Jl.  1 

2718 

OCT  2 

4 1353 

22  « 

tidY 

2 3 1324 

A 

PR  0 3 1986 

Mlih  1 ? 

O ^ . ..  - 

iy--: 

5T  m : 

3 01988 

u 

APR  ( 

?8 

MAR 

2 7 1990  ■ 

aCT-5 

1961 

'^<7  m 

1 . 

I 

\ 

mo 

S asa_„., 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/ideaofuniversity00newm_2 


/ 


■rl'-. 

i 


THE  IDEA  OF  A UNIVERSITY 


THE  IDEA  OF  A UNIVERSITY 

DEFINED  AND  ILLUSTRATED 

I.  IN  NINE  DISCOURSES  DELIVERED  TO  THE  CATHOLICS  OF 
DUBLIN 

TI  IN  OCCASIONAL  LECTURES  AND  ESSAYS  ADDRESSED  TO  THE 
MEMBERS  OF  THE  CATHOLIC  UNIVERSITY 


BY 

JOHN  HENRY  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


niPREBSlOE 


LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 

39  PATERNOSTER  ROW,  LONDON 
NEW  YORK,  BOMBAY,  AND  CALCUTTA 


OF  HIS  MANY  FRIENDS  AND  BENEFACTORS, 
LIVING  AND  DEAD, 

AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 
IN  GREAT  BRITAIN  IRELAND,  FRANCE, 

IN  BELGIUM,  GERMANY,  POI/AND,  ITALY,  AND  MALTA, 
IN  NORTH  AMERICA,  AND  OTHER  COUNTRIES, 
WHO,  BY  THEIR  RESOLUTE  PRAYERS  AND  PENANCE, 
AND  BY  THEIR  GENEROUS  STUBBORN  EFFORTS 
AND  BY  THEIR  MUNIFICENT  ALMS, 

HAVE  BROKEN  FOR  HIM  THE  STRESS 
OF  A GREAT  ANXIETY, 


THESE  DISCOURSES, 

OFFERED  TO  OUR  LADY  AND  ST,  PHILIP  ON  ITS  RISE, 


COMPOSED  UNDER  ITS  PRESSURE, 
FINISHED  ON  THE  EVE  OF  ITS  TERMINATION, 


ARE  RESPECTFULLY  AND  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED 


: C'  , IN  FEST.  PRiESENT. 
B.  M.  V 
NOV.  21,  1852 


BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


HE  view  taken  of  a University  in  these  Discourses 


i is  the  following : — That  it  is  a place  of  teaching 
universal  knoivledge.  This  implies  that  its  object  is,  on 
the  one  hand,  intellectual,  not  moral ; and,  on  the  other, 
that  it  is  the  diffusion  and  extension  of  knowledge  rather 
than  the  advancement.  If  its  object  were  scientific  and 
philosophical  discovery,  1 do  not  see  why  a University 
should  have  students  ; if  religious  training,  I do  not  see 
how  it  can  be  the  seat  of  literature  and  science. 

Such  is  a University  in  its  essence^  and  independently 
of  its  relation  to  the  Church.  But,  practically  speaking, 
it  cannot  fulfil  its  object  duly,  such  as  I have  described 
it,  without  the  Church’s  assistance ; or,  to  use  the  theo- 
logical term,  the  Church  is  necessary  for  its  integrity. 
Not  that  its  main  characters  are  changed  by  this  incor- 
poration : it  still  has  the  office  of  intellectual  education  ; 
but  the  Church  steadies  it  in  the  performance  of  that 
office. 

Such  are  the  main  principles  of  the  Discourses  which 
follow ; though  it  would  be  unreasonable  for  me  to  ex- 
pect that  I have  treated  so  large  and  important  a field 
of  thought  with  the  fulness  and  precision  necessary  to 
secure  me  from  incidental  misconceptions  of  my  meaning 
on  the  part  of  the  reader.  It  is  true,  there  is  nothing 


A ^ Preface, 

novel  or  singular  in  the  argument  which  I have  been 
pursuing,  but  this  does  not  protect  me  from  such  mis- 
conceptions ; for  the  very  circumstance  that  the  views  I 
have  been  delineating  are  not  original  with  me  may  lead 
to  false  notions  as  to  my  relations  in  opinion  towards 
those  from  whom  I happened  in  the  first  instance  to 
learn  them,  and  may  cause  me  to  be  interpreted  by  the 
objects  or  sentiments  of  schools  to  which  1 should  be 
sin'iply  opposed. 

For  instance,  some  persons  may  be  tempted  to  com- 
plain, that  I have  servilely  followed  the  English  idea  of 
a University,  to  the  disparagement  of  that  Knowledge 
which  I profess  to  be  so  strenuously  upholding;  and 
they  may  anticipate  that  an  academical  system,  formed 
upon  my  model,  will  result  in  nothing  better  or  higher 
than  in  the  production  of  that  antiquated  variety  of 
human  nature  and  remnant  of  feudalism,  as  they  consider 
it,  called  ^^a  gentleman.”*  Now,  I have  anticipated  this 
charge  in  various  parts  of  my  discussion  ; if,  however, 
any  Catholic  is  found  to  prefer  it  (and  to  Catholics  of 
course  this  Volume  is  primarily  addressed),  I would  have 
him  first  of  all  ask  himself  the  previous  question',  what 
he  conceives  to  be  the  reason  contemplated  by  the  Holy 
See  in  recommending  just  now  to  the  Irish  Hierarchy 
the  establishment  of  a Catholic  University  'I  Has  the 
Supreme  Pontiff  recommended  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
Sciences,  which  are  to  be  the  matter,  and  not  rather  of  the 
Students,  who  are  to  be  the  subjects,  of  its  teaching? 
Has  he  any  obligation  or  duty  at  all  towards  secular 
knowledge  as  such  ? Would  it  become  his  Apostolical 
Ministry,  and  his  descent  from  the  Fisherman,  to  have  a 
zeal  for  the  Baconian  or  other  philosophy  of  man  for  its 

* Vid.  Huber’s  English  Universities,  London,  1843,  vol.  ii.,  part  i,  pp. 
321,  etc. 


Preface.  xi 

own  sake  ? Is  the  Vicar  of  Christ  bound  by  office  or  by 
vow  to  be  the  preacher  of  the  theory  of  gravitation,  or 
a martyr  for  electro-magnetism  ? Would  he  be  acquit- 
ting himself  of  the  dispensation  committed  to  him  if  he 
were  smitten  with  an  abstract  love  of  these  matters,  how- 
ever true,  or  beautiful,  or  ingenious,  or  useful?  Or  rather, 
does  he  not  contemplate  such  achievements  of  the  intel- 
lect, as  far  as  he  contemplates  them,  solely  and  simply 
in  their  relation  to  the  interests  of  Revealed  Truth  ? 
Surely,  what  he  does  he  does  for  the  sake  of  Religion  ; 
if  he  looks  with  satisfaction  on  strong  temporal  govern- 
ments, which  promise  perpetuity,  it  is  for  the  sake  of 
Religion  ; and  if  he  encourages  and  patronizes  art  and 
science,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  Religion.  He  rejoices  in 
the  widest  and  most  philosophical  systems  of  intellectual 
education,  from  an  intimate  conviction  that  Truth  is  his 
real  ally,  as  it  is  his  profession ; and  that  Knowledge 
and  Reason  are  sure  ministers  to  Faith. 

This  being  undeniable,  it  is  plain  that,  when  he  sug- 
gests to  the  Irish  Hierarchy  the  establishment  of  a Uni- 
versity, his  first  and  chief  and  direct  object  is,  not  science, 
art,  professional  skill,  literature,  the  discovery  of  know- 
ledge, but  some  benefit  or  other,  to  accrue,  by  means  of 
literature  and  science,  to  his  own  children  ; not  indeed 
their  formation  on  any  narrow  or  fantastic  type,  as,  for 
instance,  that  of  an  '‘English  Gentleman”  may  be  called, 
but  their  exercise  and  growth  in  certain  habits,  moral  or 
intellectual.  Nothing  short  of  this  can  be  his  aim,  if,  as 
becomes  the  Successor  of  the  Apostles,  he  is  to  be  able 
to  say  with  St.  Paul,  "Non  judicavi  me  scire  aliquid  inter 
VOS,  nisi  Jesum  Christum,  et  hunc  crucifixum.”  Just  as 
a commander  wishes  to  have  tall  and  well-formed  and 
vigorous  soldiers,  not  from  any  abstract  devotion  to  the 
military  standard  of  height  or  age,  but  for  the  purposes 

b 


Preface. 


Xll 


of  war,  and  no  one  thinks  it  any  thing  but  natural  and 
praiseworthy  in  him  to  be  contemplating,  not  abstract 
qualities,  but  his  own  living  and  breathing  men ; so,  in 
like  manner,  when  the  Church  founds  a University,  she 
is  not  cherishing  talent,  genius,  or  knowledge,  for  their 
own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  her  children,  with  a view  to 
their  spiritual  welfare  and  their  religious  influence  and 
usefulness,  with  the  object  of  training  them  to  fill  their 
respective  posts  in  life  better,  and  of  making  them  more 
intelligent,  capable,  active  members  of  society. 

Nor  can  it  justly  be  said  that  in  thus  acting  she  sacri- 
fices Science,  and,  under  a pretence  of  fulfilling  the  duties 
of  her  mission,  perverts  a University  to  ends  not  its  own, 
as  soon  as  it  is  taken  into  account  that  there  are  other 
institutions  far  more  suited  to  act  as  instruments  of 
stimulating  philosophical  inquiry,  and  extending  the 
boundaries  of  our  knowledge,  than  a University.  Such, 
for  instance,  are  the  literary  and  scientific  Academies, 
which  are  so  celebrated  in  Italy  and  France,  and  which 
have  frequently  been  connected  with  Universities,  as 
committees,  or,  as  it  were,  congregations  or  delegacies 
subordinate  to  them.  Thus  the  present  Royal  Society 
originated  in  Charles  the  Second’s  time,  in  Oxford;  such 
just  now  are  the  Ashmolean  and  Architectural  Societies 
in  the  same  seat  of  learning,  which  have  risen  in  our  own 
time.  Such,  too,  is  the  British  Association,  a migratory 
body,  which  at  least  at  times  is  found  in  the  halls  of  the 
Protestant  Universities  of  the  United  Kingdom,  and  the 
faults  of  which  lie,  not  in  its  exclusive  devotion  to  science, 
but  in  graver  matters  which  it  is  irrelevant  here  to  enter 
upon*  Such  again  is  the  Antiquarian  Society,  the  Royal 
Academy  for  the  Fine  Arts,  and  others  which  might  be 
mentioned.  This,  then,  is  the  sort  of  institution,  which 
primarily  contemplates  Science  itself,  and  not  students : 


Preface. 


Xlll 


and,  in  thus  speaking,  I am  saying  nothing  of  my  own, 
being  supported  by  no  less  an  authority  than  Cardinal 
Gerdil.  Ce  n^est  pas,’'  he  says, qu’il  y ait  aucune 
veritable  opposition  entre  I’esprit  des  Academies  et  celui 
des  Universit^s ; ce  sont  seulement  des  vues  dififerentes. 
Les  Universites  sont  ^tablies  pour  enseigner  les  sciences 
aux  ^Ikves  qui  veulent  s’y  former ; les  Academies  se 
proposent  de  nouvelles  recherches  a faire  dans  la  carri^re 
des  sciences.  Les  Universites  d’ltalie  ont  fourni  des 
sujets  qui  ont  fait  honneur  aux  Academies  ; et  celles-ci 
ont  donne  aux  Universites  des  Professeurs,  qui  ont  rempli 
les  chaires  avec  la  plus  grande  distinction.”* 

The  nature  of  the  case  and  the  history  of  philosophy 
combine  to  recommend  to  us  this  division  of  intellec- 
tual labour  between  Academies  and  Universities.  To 
discover  and  to  teach  are  distinct  functions ; they  are 
also  distinct  gifts,  and  are  not  commonly  found  united  in 
the  same  person.  He,  too,  who  spends  his  day  in  dispens- 
ing his  existing  knowledge  to  all  comers  is  unlikely  to 
have  either  leisure  or  energy  to  acquire  new.  The  com- 
mon sense  of  mankind  has  associated  the  search  after 
truth  with  seclusion  and  quiet.  The  greatest  thinkers 
have  been  too  intent  on  their  subject  to  admit  of  interrup- 
tion ; they  have  been  men  of  absent  minds  and  idosyn- 
cratic  habits,  and  have,  more  or  less,  shunned  the  lecture 
room  and  the  public  school.  Pythagoras,  the  light  of 
Magna  Grsecia,  lived  for  a time  in  a cave.  Thales,  the 
light  of  Ionia,  lived  unmarried  and  in  private,  and  refused 
the  invitations  of  princes.  Plato  withdrew  from  Athens 
to  the  groves  of  Academus.  Aristotle  gave  twenty  years 
to  a studious  discipleship  under  him.  Friar  Bacon  lived 
in  his  tower  upon  the  Isis.  Newton  indulged  in  an  intense 
severity  of  meditation  which  almost  shook  his  reason 

* Opere,  t.  iii.,  p.  353. 


XIV 


Preface. 


The  great  discoveries  in  chemistry  and  electricity  were 
not  made  in  Universities.  Observatories  are  more  fre- 
quently out  of  Universities  than  in  them,  and  even  when 
within  their  bounds  need  have  no  moral  connexion  with 
them.  Porson  had  no  classes  ; Elmsley  lived  good  part 
of  his  life  in  the  country.  I do  not  say  that  there  are 
not  great  examples  the  other  way,  perhaps  Socrates, 
certainly  Lord  Bacon ; still  I think  it  must  be  allowed  on 
the  whole  that,  while  teaching  involves  external  engage- 
ments, the  natural  home  for  experiment  and  speculation 
is  retirement. 

Returning,  then,  to  the  consideration  of  the  question, 
from  which  I may  seem  to  have  digressed,  thus  much  I 
think  I have  made  good, — that,  whether  or  no  a Catholic 
University  should  put  before  it,  as  its  great  object,  to 
make  its  students  ‘‘gentlemen,’'  still  to  make  them  some- 
thing or  other  is  its  great  object,  and  not  simply  to  pro- 
tect the  interests  and  advance  the  dominion  of  Science. 
If,  then,  this  maybe  taken  for  granted,  as  I think  it  may, 
the  only  point  which  remains  to  be  settled  is,  whether  I 
have  formed  a probable  conception  of  the  sort  of  benefit 
which  the  Holy  See  has  intended  to  confer  on  Catholics 
who  speak  the  English  tongue  by  recommending  to  the 
Irish  Hierarchy  the  establishment  of  a University ; and 
this  I now  proceed  to  consider. 

Here,  then,  it  is  natural  to  ask  those  who  are  interested 
in  the  question,  whether  any  better  interpretation  of  the 
recommendation  of  the  Holy  See  can  be  given  than  that 
which  I have  suggested  in  this  Volume.  Certainly  it 
does  not  seem  to  me  rash  to  pronounce  that,  whereas 
Protestants  have  great  advantages  of  education  in  the 
Schools,  Colleges,  and  Universities  of  the  United  King- 
dom, our  ecclesiastical  rulers  have  it  in  purpose  that 
Catholics  should  enjoy  the  like  advantages,  whatever  they 


Preface. 


XV 


are,  to  the  full.  I conceive  they  view  it  as  prejudicial  to 
the  interests  of  Religion  that  there  should  be  any  culti- 
vation of  mind  bestowed  upon  Protestants  which  is  not 
given  to  their  own  youth  also.  As  they  wish  their  schools 
for  the  poorer  and  middle  classes  to  be  at  least  on  a par 
with  those  of  Protestants,  they  contemplate  the  same  Ob- 
ject also  as  regards  that  higher  education  which  is  given  to 
comparatively  the  few.  Protestant  youths,  who  can  spare 
the  time,  continue  their  studies  till  the  age  of  twenty-one 
or  twenty-two ; thus  they  employ  a time  of  life  all-im- 
portant and  especially  favourable  to  mental  culture.  I 
conceive  that  our  Prelates  are  impressed  with  the  fact 
and  its  consequences,  that  a youth  who  ends  his  educa- 
tion at  seventeen  is  no  match  (cceteris  paribus)  for  one 
who  ends  it  at  twenty-two. 

All  classes  indeed  of  the  community  are  impressed 
with  a fact  so  obvious  as  this.  The  consequence  is,  that 
Catholics  who  aspire  to  be  on  a level  v/ith  Protestants  in 
discipline  and  refinement  of  intellect  have  recourse  to 
Protestant  Universities  to  obtain  what  they  cannot  find 
at  home.  Assuming  (as  the  Rescripts  from  Propaganda 
allow  me  to  do)  that  Protestant  education  is  inexpedient 
for  our  youth, — we  see  here  an  additional  reason  why 
those  advantages,  whatever  they  are,  which  Protestant 
communities  dispense  through  the  medium  of  Protest- 
antism should  be  accessible  to  Catholics  in  a Catholic 
form. 

What  are  these  advantages  .?  I repeat,  they  are  in  one 
word  the  culture  of  the  intellect.  Robbed,  oppressed, 
and  thrust  aside,  Catholics  in  these  islands  have  not  been 
in  a condition  for  centuries  to  attempt  the  sort  of  educa- 
tion which  is  necessary  for  the  man  of  the  world,  the 
statesman,  the  landholder,  or  the  opulent  gentleman. 
Their  legitimate  stations,  duties,  employments,  have  been 


XVI 


Preface. 

taken  from  them,  and  the  qualifications  withal,  social 
and  intellectual,  which  are  necessary  both  for  reversing 
che  forfeiture  and  for  availing  themselves  of  the  reversal. 
rthe  time  is  come  when  this  moral  disability  must  be 
j removed.  Our  desideratum  is,  not  the  manners  and  habits 
' of  gentlemen; — these  can  be,  and  are,  acquired  in  various 
other  ways,  by  good  society,  by  foreign  travel,  by  the 
innate  grace  and  dignity  of  the  Catholic  mind  ; — but  the 
force,  the  steadiness,  the  comprehensiveness  and  the 
versatility  of  intellect,  the  command  over  our  own  powers, 
the  instinctive  just  estimate  of  things  as  they  pass  before 
us,  which  sometimes  indeed  is  a natural  gift,  but  com- 
monly is  not  gained  without  much  effort  and  the  exercise 
of  years. 

This  is  real  cultivation  of  mind  ; and  I do  not  deny 
that  the  characteristic  excellences  of  a gentleman  are 
included  in  it.  Nor  need  we  be  ashamed  that  they  should 
be,  since  the  poet  long  ago  wrote,  that  Ingenuas  didi- 
cisse  fideliter  artes  Emollit  mores.'’  Certainly  a liberal 
education  does  manifest  itself  in  a courtesy,  propriety, 
and  polish  of  word  and  action,  which  is  beautiful  in  itself, 
and  acceptable  to  others  ; but  it  does  much  more.  It 
brings  the  mind  into  form, — for  the  mind  is  like  the  body. 
Boys  outgrow  their  shape  and  their  strength  ; their  limbs 
have  to  be  knit  together,  and  their  constitution  needs 
tone.  Mistaking  animal  spirits  for  vigour,  and  over- 
confident in  their  health,  ignorant  what  they  can  bear 
and  how  to  manage  themselves,  they  are  immoderate 
and  extravagant ; and  fall  into  sharp  sicknesses.  This 
is  an  emblem  of  their  minds  ; at  first  they  have  no  prin- 
ciples laid  down  within  them  as  a foundation  for  the 
intellect  to  build  upon  ; they  have  no  discriminating  con- 
victions, and  no  grasp  of  consequences.  And  therefore 
they  talk  at  random,  if  they  talk  much,  and  cannot  help 


Preface. 


xvil 


being  flippant,  or  what  is  emphatically  called  young!' 
They  are  merely  dazzled  by  phenomena,  instead  of  per- 
ceiving things  as  they  are. 

It  were  well  if  none  remained  boys  all  their  lives  ; but 
what  is  more  common  than  the  sight  of  grown  men, 
talking  on  political  or  moral  or  religious  subjects,  in  that 
offhand,  idle  way,  which  we  signify 'by  the  word  unreal? 
“ That  they  simply  do  not  know  what  they  are  talking 
about is  the  spontaneous  silent  remark  of  any  man  of 
sense  who  hears  them.  Hence  such  persons  have  no 
difficulty  in  contradicting  themselves  in  successive  sen- 
tences, without  being  conscious  of  it.  Hence  others, 
whose  defect  in  intellectual  training  is  more  latent,  have 
their  most  unfortunate  crotchets,  as  they  are  called,  or 
hobbies,  which  deprive  them  of  the  influence  which  their 
estimable  qualities  would  otherwise  secure.  Hence  others 
can  never  look  straight  before  them,  never  see  the  point, 
and  have  no  difficulties  in  the  most  difficult  subjects. 
Others  are  hopelessly  obstinate  and  prejudiced,  and,  after 
they  have  been  driven  from  their  opinions,  return  to  them 
the  next  moment  without  even  an  attempt  to  explain 
why.  Others  are  so  intemperate  and  intractable  that 
there  is  no  greater  calamity  for  a good  cause  than  that 
they  should  get  hold  of  it.  It  is  very  plain  from  the 
very  particulars  I have  mentioned  that,  in  this  delinea- 
tion of  intellectual  infirmities,  I am  drawing,  not  from 
Catholics,  but  from  the  world  at  large ; I am  referring 
to  an  evil  which  is  forced  upon  us  in  every  railway 
carriage,  in  every  coffee-room  or  table-d' hote^  in  every 
mixed  company,  an  evil,  however,  to  which  Catholics  are 
not  less  exposed  than  the  rest  of  mankind. 

When  the  intellect  has  once  been  properly  trained  and 
formed  to  have  a connected  view  or  grasp  of  things,  it 
A^ill  display  its  powers  with  more  or  less  effect  according 


xviil  Preface. 

to  its  particular  quality  and  capacity  in  the  individual. 
In  the  case  of  most  men  it  makes  itself  felt  in  the  good 
sense,  sobriety  of  thought,  reasonableness,  candour,  self- 
command,  and  steadiness  of  view,  which  characterize  it. 
In  some  it  will  have  developed  habits  of  business,  power 
of  influencing  others,  and  sagacity.  In  others  it  will 
elicit  the  talent  of  philosophical  speculation,  and  lead 
the  mind  forward  to  eminence  in  this  or  that  intellectual 
department.  In  all  it  will  be  a faculty  of  entering  with 
comparative  ease  into  any  subject  of  thought,  and  of 
taking  up  with  aptitude  any  science  or  profession.  All 
this  it  will  be  and  will  do  in  a measure,  even  when  the 
mental  formation  be  made  after  a model  but  partially 
true  ; for,  as  far  as  effectiveness  goes,  even  false  views  of 
things  have  more  influence  and  inspire  more  respect  than 
no  views  at  all.  Men  who  fancy  they  see  what  is  not 
are  more  energetic,  and  make  their  way  better,  than 
those  who  see  nothing  ; and  so  the  undoubting  infidel, 
the  fanatic,  the  heresiarch,  are  able  to  do  much,  while  the 
mere  hereditary  Christian,  who  has  never  realized  the 
truths  which  he  holds,  is  unable  to  do  any  thing.  But,  if 
consistency  of  view  can  add  so  much  strength  even  to 
error,  what  may  it  not  be  expected  to  furnish  to  the 
dignity,  the  energy,  and  the  influence  of  Truth  ! 

Some  one,  however,  will  perhaps  object  that  I am 
but  advocating  that  spurious  philosophism,  which  shows 
itself  in  what,  for  want  of  a word,  I may  call  viewi- 
ness,” when  I speak  so  much  of  the  formation,  and  con- 
sequent grasp,  of  the  intellect.  It  may  be  said  that  the 
theory  of  University  Education,  which  I have  been 
delineating,  if  acted  upon,  would  teach  youths  nothing 
soundly  or  thoroughly,  and  would  dismiss  them  with 
nothing  better  than  brilliant  general  views  about  all 
things  whatever. 


Preface. 


XIX 


This  indeed,  if  well  founded,  would  be  a most  serious 
objection  to  what  I have  advanced  in  this  Volume,  and 
would  demand  my  immediate  attention,  had  I any  reason 
to  think  that  I could  not  remove  it  at  once,  by  a simple 
explanation  of  what  I consider  the  true  mode  of  educa- 
ting, were  this  the  place  to  do  so.  But  these  Discourses 
are  directed  simply  to  the  consideration  of  the  aims  and 
principles  of  Education.  Suffice  it,  then,  to  say  here,  that 
I hold  very  strongly  that  the  first  step  in  intellectual 
training  is  to  impress  upon  a boy's  mind  the  idea  of 
science,  method,  order,  principle,  and  system  ; of  rule 
and  exception,  of  richness  and  harmony.  This  is  com- 
monly and  excellently  done  by  making  him  begin  with 
Grammar  ; nor  can  too  great  accuracy,  or  minuteness 
and  subtlety  of  teaching  be  used  towards  him,  as  his 
faculties  expand,  with  this  simple  purpose.  Hence  it  is 
that  critical  scholarship  is  so  important  a discipline  for 
him  when  he  is  leaving  school  for  the  University.  A 
second  science  is  the  Mathematics : this  should  follow 
Grammar,  still  with  the  same  object,  viz.,  to  give  him  a 
conception  of  development  and  arrangement  from  and 
around  a common  centre.  Hence  it  is  that  Chronology 
and  Geography  are  so  necessary  for  him,  when  he  reads 
History,  which  is  otherwise  little  better  than  a story- 
book. Hence,  too.  Metrical  Composition,  when  he  reads 
Poetry  ; in  order  to  stimulate  his  powers  into  action  in 
every  practicable  way,  and  to  prevent  a merely  passive 
reception  of  images  and  ideas  which  in  that  case  are 
likely  to  pass  out  of  the  mind  as  soon  as  they  have 
entered  it  Let  him  once  gain  this  habit  of  method, 
of  starting  from  fixed  points,  of  making  his  ground 
good  as  he  goes,  of  distinguishing  what  he  knows 
from  what  he  does  not  know,  and  I conceive  he  will  be 
gradually  initiated  into  the  largest  and  truest  philoso- 


XX 


Preface, 


phical  views,  and  will  feel  nothing  but  impatience  and 
disgust  at  the  random  theories  and  imposing  sophistries 
and  dashing  paradoxes,  which  carry  away  half-formed 
and  superficial  intellects. 

Such  parti-coloured  ingenuities  are  indeed  one  of  the 
chief  evils  of  the  day,  and  men  of  real  talent  are  not  slow 
to  minister  to  them.  An  intellectual  man,  as  the  world 
now  conceives  of  him,  is  one  who  is  full  of  views  on 
all  subjects  of  philosophy,  on  all  matters  of  the  day.  It 
is  almost  thought  a disgrace  not  to  have  a view  at  a 
moment's  notice  on  any  question  from  the  Personal 
Advent  to  the  Cholera  or  Mesmerism.  This  is  owing  in 
great  measure  to  the  necessities  of  periodical  literature, 
now  so  much  in  request.  Every  quarter  of  a year,  every 
month,  every  day,  there  must  be  a supply,  for  the  grati- 
fication of  the  public,  of  new  and  luminous  theories  on 
the  subjects  of  religion,  foreign  politics,  home  politics, 
civil  economy,  finance,  trade,  agriculture,  emigration, 
and  the  colonies.  Slavery,  the  gold  fields,  German 
philosophy,  the  French  Empire,  Wellington,  Peel,  Ire- 
land, must  all  be  practised  on,  day  after  day,  by  what 
are  called  original  thinkers.  As  the  great  man's  guest 
must  produce  his  good  stories  or  songs  at  the  evening 
banquet,  as  the  platform  orator  exhibits  his  telling  facts 
at  mid-day,  so  the  journalist  lies  under  the  stern  obliga- 
tion of  extemporizing  his  lucid  views,  leading  ideas,  and 
nutshell  truths  for  the  breakfast  table.  The  very  nature 
of  periodical  literature,  broken  into  small  wholes,  and 
demanded  punctually  to  an  hour,  involves  the  habit  of 
this  extempore  philosophy.  Almost  all  the  Ramblers," 
says  Boswell  of  Johnson,  “were  written  just  as  they 
were  wanted  for  the  press  ; he  sent  a certain  portion  of 
the  copy  of  an  essay,  and  wrote  the  remainder  while  the 
former  part  of  it  was  printing."  Few  men  have  the  gifts 


Preface, 


XXI 


of  Johnson,  who  to  great  vigour  and  resource  of  intellect, 
when  it  was  fairly  roused,  united  a rare  common-sense 
and  a conscientious  regard  for  veracity,  which  preserved 
him  from  flippancy  or  extravagance  in  writing.  Few 
men  are  Johnsons  ; yet  how  many  men  at  this  day  are 
assailed  by  incessant  demands  on  their  mental  powers, 
which  only  a productiveness  like  his  could  suitably 
supply  ! There  is  a demand  for  a reckless  originality  of 
thought,  and  a sparkling  plausibility  of  argument,  which 
he  would  have  despised,  even  if  he  could  have  displayed ; 
a demand  for  crude  theory  and  unsound  philosophy, 
rather  than  none  at  all.  It  is  a sort  of  repetition  of  the 
Quid  novi } of  the  Areopagus,  and  it  must  have  an 
answer.  Men  must  be  found  who  can  treat,  where  it  is 
necessary,  like  the  Athenian  sophist,  de  omni  scibili, 

‘‘  Grammaticus,  Rhetor,  Geometres,  Pictor,  Aliptes, 

Augur,  Schoenobates,  Medicus,  Magus,  omnia  novit.” 

I am  speaking  of  such  writers  with  a feeling  of  real 
sympathy  for  men  who  are  under  the  rod  of  a cruel 
slavery.  I have  never  indeed  been  in  such  circumstances 
myself,  nor  in  the  temptations  which  they  involve  ; but 
most  men  who  have  had  to  do  with  composition  must 
know  the  distress  which  at  times  it  occasions  them  to 
have  to  write — a distress  sometimes  so  keen  and  so 
specific  that  it  resembles  nothing  else  than  bodily  pain 
That  pain  is  the  token  of  the  wear  and  tear  of  mind  ; 
and,  if  works  done  comparatively  at  leisure  involve  such 
mental  fatigue  and  exhaustion,  what  must  be  the  toil  of 
those  whose  intellects  are  to  be  flaunted  daily  before  the 
public  in  full  dress,  and  that  dress  ever  new  and  varied, 
and  spun,  like  the  silkworm's,  out  of  themselves  ! Still, 
whatever  true  sympathy  we  may  feel  for  the  ministers 
of  this  dearly  purchased  luxury,  and  whatever  sense  we 


XXll 


Preface. 


may  have  of  the  great  intellectual  power  which  the 
literature  in  question  displays,  we  cannot  honestly  close 
our  eyes  to  its  direct  evil. 

One  other  remark  suggests  itself,  which  is  the  last  I 
shall  think  it  necessary  to  make.  The  authority,  which 
in  former  times  was  lodged  in  Universities,  now  resides 
in  very  great  measure  in  that  literary  world,  as  it  is 
called,  to  which  I have  been  referring.  This  is  not  satis- 
factory, if,  as  no  one  can  deny,  its  teaching  be  so  off- 
hand, so  ambitious,  so  changeable.  It  increases  the 
seriousness  of  the  mischief,  that  so  very  large  a portion 
of  its  writers  are  anonymous,  for  irresponsible  power 
never  can  be  any  thing  but  a great  evil ; and,  moreover, 
that,  even  when  they  are  known,  they  can  give  no  bette* 
guarantee  for  the  philosophical  truth  of  their  principle 
than  their  popularity  at  the  moment,  and  their  happy 
conformity  in  ethical  character  to  the  age  which  admires 
them.  Protestants,  however,  may  do  as  they  will : it  is 
a matter  for  their  own  consideration  ; but  at  least  it 
concerns  us  that  our  own  literary  tribunals  and  oracles 
of  moral  duty  should  bear  a graver  character.  At  least 
it  is  a matter  of  deep  soliciti^e  to  Catholic  Prelates  that 
their  people  should  be  tau^f;  a wisdom,  safe  from  the 
excesses  and  vagaries  of  indivic^h^ls,  embodied  in  institu- 
tions which  have  stood  the  trial  and  received  the  sanc- 
tion of  ages,  and  administered  men  who  have  no  need 
to  be  anonymous,  as  being  supported  by  their  consis- 
tency with  their  predecessors  and  with  each  other. 


November  2r.  1852#. 


UNIVERSITY  TEACHING. 


DISCOURSE 

-*  I.  Introductory  • , 

II.  Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge  . , , , 

III.  Bearing  of  Theology  on  other  Knowledge 

ly.  Bearing  of  other  Knowledge  on  Theology  . ♦ 

w V.  Knowledge  its  own  end  . . • . • 

— VI.  Knowledge  viewed  in  relation  to  Learning 

— VII.  Knowledge  viewed  in  relation  to  Professional  Skill 
vHii.  Knowledge  viewed  in  relation  to  Religious  Duty  . 

IX.  Duties  of  the  Church  towards  Knowledge  • , 


PA3B 

I 

19 

43 

7^ 

99 

124 

151 

179 

212 


UNIVERSITY  TEACHING 

CONSIDERED  IN  NINE  DISCOURSES. 


DISCOURSE  1. 


INTRODUCTORV^ 


I. 

IN  addressing  myself,  Gentlemen,  to  the  consideration 
of  a question  which  has  excited  so  much  interest, 
and  elicited  so  much  discussion  at  the  present  day,  as 
that  of  University  Education,  I feel  some  explanation  is 
due  from  me  for  supposing,  after  such  high  ability  and 
wide  experience  have  been  brought  to  bear  upon  it, 
that  any  field  remains  for  the  additional  labours  either 
of  a disputant  or  of  an  inquirer.  If,  nevertheless,  I still 
venture  to  ask  permission  to  continue  the  discussion, 
already  so  protracted,  it  is  because  the  subject  of  Liberal 
Education,  and  of  the  principles  on  which  it  must  be 
conducted,  has  ever  had  a hold  upon  my  own  mind  ; and 
because  I have  lived  the  greater  part  of  my  life  in  a 
place  which  has  all  that  time  been  occupied  in  a series 
of  controversies  both  domestic  and  with  strangers,  and 
of  measures,  experimental  or  definitive,  bearing  upon  it. 
About  fifty  years  since,  the  English  University,  of  which 
I was  so  long  a member,  after  a century  of  inactivity,  at 
length  was  roused,  at  a time  when  (as  I may  say)  it  was 
giving  no  education  at  all  to  the  youth  committed  to  its 
keeping,  to  a sense  of  the  responsibilities  which  its  pro- 
fession and  its  station  involved,  and  it  presents  to  us 

I 

-0. 


2 


Discourse  I. 


, 

i 

the  singular  example  of  an  heterogeneous  and  an  inde  | 
pendent  body  of  men,  setting  about  a work  of  self-refor 
mation,  not  from  any  pressure  of  public  opinion,  bur 
because  it  was  fitting  and  right  to  undertake  it.  Its 
initial  efforts,  begun  and  carried  on  amid  many  obi 
Stacies,  were  met  from  without,  as  often  happens  in  such 
cases,  by  ungenerous  and  jealous  criticisms,  which,  at 
the  very  moment  that  they  were  urged,  were  beginning 
to  be  unjust.  Controversy  did  but  bring  out  more 
clearly  to  its  own  apprehension  the  views  on  which  its 
reformation  was  proceeding,  and  throw  them  into  a 
philosophical  form.  The  course  of  beneficial  change 
made  progress,  and  what  was  at  first  but  the  result  of 
individual  energy  and  an  act  of  the  academical  corpora-  J 
tion,  gradually  became  popular,  and  was  taken  up  and) 
carried  out  by  the  separate  collegiate  bodies,  of  which 
the  University  is  composed.  This  was  the  first  stage  of 
the  controversy.  Years  passed  away,  and  then  political 
adversaries  arose  against  it,  and  the  system  of  education 
which  it  had  established  was  a second  time  assailed ; but 
still,  since  that  contest  was  conducted  for  the  most  part 
through  the  medium,  not  of  political  acts,  but  of  treatises 
and  pamphlets,  it  happened  as  before  that  the  threatened 
dangers,  in  the  course  of  their  repulse,  did  but  afford 
fuller  development  and  more  exact  delineation  to  the 
principles  of  which  the  University  was  the  representative. 

In  the  former  of  these  two  controversies  the  charge 
brought  against  its  studies  was  their  remoteness  from 
the  occupations  and  duties  of  life,  to  which  they  are  the 
formal  introduction,  or,  in  other  words,  their  inutility;  in 
the  latter,  it  was  their  connexion  with  a particular  form  of 
belief,  or,  in  other  words,  their  religious  exclusiveness. 

Living  then  so  long  as  a witness,  though  hardly  as  an 
actor,  in  these  scenes  of  intellectual  conflict,  I am  able 


Introductory. 


3 


bear  witness  to  views  of  University  Education,  with- 
'out  authority  indeed  in  themselves,  but  not  without 
value  to  a Catholic,  and  less  familiar  to  him,  as  I con- 
ceive, than  they  deserve  to  be.  And,  while  an  argument 
originating  in  the  controversies  to  which  I have  referred, 
may  be  serviceable  at  this  season  to  that  great  cause  in 
which  we  gre  here  so  especially  interested,  to  me  per- 
sonally it  will  afford  satisfaction  of  a peculiar  kind  ; for, 
though  it  has  been  my  lot  for  many  years  to  take  a 
prominent,  sometimes  a presumptuous,  part  in  theological 
discussions,  yet  the  natural  turn  of  my  mind  carries  me 
off  to  trains  of  thought  like  those  which  I am  now  about 
to  open,  which,  important  though  they  be  for  Catholic 
objects,  and  admitting  of  a Catholic  treatment,  are 
sheltered  from  the  extreme  delicacy  and  peril  which 
attach  to  disputations  directly  bearing  on  the  subject- 
matter  of  Divine  Revelation, 

2. 

There  are  several  reasons  why  I should  open  the 
discussion  with  a reference  to  the  lessons  with  which 
past  years  have  supplied  me.  One  reason  is  this  : It 
would  concern  me.  Gentlemen,  were  I supposed  to  have 
got  up  my  opinions  for  the  occasion.  This,  indeed,  would 
have  been  no  reflection  on  me  personally,  supposing  I 
were  persuaded  of  their  truth,  when  at  length  addressing 
myself  to  the  inquiry ; but  it  would  have  destroyed,  of 
course,  the  force  of  my  testimony,  and  deprived  such 
arguments,  as  I might  adduce,  of  that  moral  persuasive- 
ness which  attends  on  tried  and  sustained  conviction. 
It  would  have  made  me  seem  the  advocate,  rather  than 
the  cordial  and  deliberate  maintainer  and  witness,  of  the 
doctrines  which  I was  to  support ; and,  though  it  might 
be  said  to  evidence  the  faith  I reposed  in  the  practical 


4 


Discourse  L 


judgment  of  the  Church,  and  the  intimate  concurrency 
of  my  own  reason  with  the  course  she  had  authoritatively^ 
sanctioned,  and  the  devotion  with  which  I could  promptly 
put  myself  at  her  disposal,  it  would  have  cast  suspicion 
on  the  validity  of  reasonings  and  conclusions  which 
rested  on  no  independent  inquiry,  and  appealed  to  no 
past  experience.  In  that  case  it  might  have  been  plau- 
sibly objected  by  opponents  that  I was  the  serviceable 
expedient  of  an  emergency,  and  never,  after  all,  could 
be  more  than  ingenious  and  adroit  in  the  management  of 
an  argument  which  was  not  my  own,  and  which  I was 
sure  to  forget  again  as  readily  as  I had  mastered  it. 
But  this  is  not  so.  The  views  to  which  I have  referred 
have  grown  into  my  whole  system  of  thought,  and  are, 
as  it  were,  part  of  myself.  Many  changes  has  my  mind 
gone  through : here  it  has  known  no  variation  or  vacilla- 
tion of  opinion,  and  though  this  by  itself  is  no  proof  of 
the  truth  of  my  principles,  it  puts  a seal  upon  conviction, 
and  is  a justification  of  earnestness  and  zeal  Those  prin- 
ciples, which  I am  now  to  set  forth  under  the  sanction  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  were  my  profession  at  that  early 
period  of  my  life,  when  religion  was  to  me  more  a matter 
of  feeling  and  experience  than  of  faith.  They  did  but 
take  greater  hold  upon  me,  as  I was  introduced  to  the 
records  of  Christian  Antiquity,  and  approached  in  senti- 
ment and  desire  to  Catholicism  ; and  my  sense  of  their 
correctness  has  been  increased  with  the  events  of  every 
year  since  I have  been  brought  within  its  pale. 

And  here  I am  brought  to  a second  and  more  important 
reason  for  referring,  on  this  occasion,  to  the  conclusions 
at  which  Protestants  have  arrived  on  the  subject  of 
Liberal  Education  ; and  it  is  as  follows : Let  it  be  ob- 
served, then,  that  the  principles  on  which  I would  conduct 
the  inquiry  are  attainable,  as  I have  already  implied,  by 


Introductory. 


5 


the  mere  experience  of  iije.  They  do  not  come  simply 
of  theology ; they  imply  no  supernatural  discernment  ; 
they  have  no  special  connexion  with  Revelation  ; they 
I almost  arise  out  of  the  nature  of  the  case ; they  are 
I dictated  even  by  human  prudence  and  wisdom,  though  a 
^divine  illumination  be  absent,  and  they  are  recognized 
3y  common  sense,  even  where  self-interest  is  not  present 
|:o  quicken  it ; and,  therefore,  though  jrue,  and  just,  and 
pod  in  themselves,  they  imply  nothing  whatever  as  to 
ftfie  religious  profession  of  those  who  maintain  them. 
iTh^may  be  held  by  Protestants  as  well  as  by  Catholics  ; 
'nay,  there  is  reason  to  anticipate  that  in  certain  times 
and  places  they  will  be  more  thoroughly  investigated, 
and  better  understood,  and  held  more  firmly  by  Protest- 
^ ants  than  by  ourselves. 

Itjs  natural  to  expect  this  from  the  very  circumstance 
[that  the  philosophy  of  Education  is  founded  on  truths 
in  the  natural  order.  Where  the  sun  shines  bright,  in 
I the  warm  climate  of  the  south,  the  natives  of  the  place 
know  little  of  safeguards  against  cold  and  wet.  They 
have,  indeed,  bleak  and  piercing  blasts  ; they  have  chill 
and  pouring  rain,  but  only  now  and  then,  for  a day  or  a 
week  ; they  bear  the  inconvenience  as  they  best  may,  but 
they  have  not  made  it  an  art  to  repel  it ; it  is  not  worth 
their  while;  the  science  of  calefaction  and  ventilation  is 
reserved  for  the  north.  It  is  in  this  way  that  Catholics 
stand  relatively  to  Protestants  in  the  science  of  Edu- 
cation ; Protestants  depending  on  human  means  mainly, 
are  led  to  make  the  most  of  them  : their  sole  resource  is 
to  use  what  they  have  ; Knowledge  is  their  power’ 
and  nothing  else  ; they  are  the  anxious  cultivators  of  a 
rugged  soil.  It  is  otherwise  with  us  ; ^^funes  cecidermit 
mihi  in  prceclarisi  We  have  a goodly  inheritance.  This 
is  apt  to  cause  us — I do  not  mean  to  rely  too  much  on 


6 


Discourse  1. 


prayer,  and  the  Divine  Blessing,  for  that  is  impossible,  but 
we  sometimes  forget  that  we  shall  please  Him  best,  and  get 
most  from  Him,  when,  according  to  the  Fable,  we  put 
our  shoulder  to  the  wheel,”  when  we  use  what  we  have  by 
nature  to  the  utmost,  at  the  same  time  that  we  look  out 
for  what  is  beyond  nature  in  the  confidence  of  faith  and j 
hope.  However,  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  let  things! 
take  their  course,  as  if  they  would  in  one  way  or  another! 
turn  up  right  at  last  for  certain  ; and  so  we  go  on,  living] 
from  hand  to  mouth,  getting  into  difficulties  and  getting! 
out  of  them,  succeeding  certainly  on  the  whole,  but  with  i 
failure  in  detail  which  might  be  avoided,  and  with  much 
of  imperfection  or  inferiority  in  our  appointments  and 
plans,  and  much  disappointment,  discouragement,  and 
collision  of  opinion  in  consequence.  If  this  be  in  any 
measure  the  state  of  the  case,  there  is  certainly  so  far, 
a reason  for  availing  ourselves  of  the  investigations 
and  experience  of  those  who  are  not  Catholics,  when  we 
have  to  address  ourselves  to  the  subject  of  Liberal 
Education. 

Nor  is  there  surely  any  thing  derogatory  to  the  position 
of  a Catholic  in  such  a proceeding.  The  Church  has 
ever  appealed  and  deferred  to  witnesses  and  authorities 
external  to  herself,  in  those  matters  in  which  she 
thought  they  had  means  of  forming  a judgment:  and 
that  on  the  principle,  Cuique  in  arte  sua  credendum. 
She  has  even  used  unbelievers  and  pagans  in  evidence 
of  her  truth,  as  far  as  their  testimony  went.  She  avails 
herself  of  scholars,  critics,  and  antiquarians,  who  are  not 
of  her  communion.  She  has  worded  her  theological  teach- 
ing in  the  phraseology  of  Aristotle;  Aquila,  Symmachus, 
Theodotion,  Origen,  Eusebius,  and  Apollinaris,  all  more 
or  less  heterodox,  have  supplied  materials  for  primitive 
exegetics.  St.  Cyprian  called  Tertullian  his  master: 


Introductory. 


7 


St.  Augustin  refers  to  Ticonius ; Bossuet,  in  modern 
, times,  complimented  the  labours  of  the  Anglican  Bull ; 
the  Benedictine  editors  of  the  Fathers  are  familiar  with 
the  labours  of  Fell,  Ussher,  Pearson,  and  Beveridge. 
Pope  Benedict  XIV.  cites  according  to  the  occasion  the 
works  of  Protestants  without  reserve,  and  the  late  French 
collection  of  Christian  Apologists  contains  the  writings 
of  Locke,  Burnet,  Tillotson,  and  Paley.  If,  then,  1*7 
come  forward  in  any  degree  as  borrowing  the  views  of 
certain  Protestant  schools  on  the  point  which  is  to  be 
discussed,  I do  so.  Gentlemen,  as  believing,  first,  that  the 
Catholic  Church  has  ever,  in  the  plenitude  of  her  divine 
illumination,  made  use  of  whatever  truth  or  wisdom  she 
has  found  in  their  teaching  or  their  measures  ; and  next, 
that  in  particular  places  or  times  her  children  are  likely 
to  profit  from  external  suggestions  or  lessons,  which  have 
not  been  provided  for  them  by  herself. 

3- 

And  here  I may  mention  a third  reason  for  appealing 
F at  the  outset  to  the  proceedings  of  Protestant  bodies  in 
regard  to  Liberal  Education.  It  will  serve  to  intimate 
the  mode  in  which  I propose  to  handle  my  subject 
altogether.  Observe  then.  Gentlemen,  I have  no  inten- 
tion, in  any  thing  I shall  say,  of  bringing  into  the  argument 
^the  authority  of  the  Church,  or  any  authority  at  all ; but 
I shall  consider  the  question  simply  on  the  grounds  of 
human  reason  and  human  wisdom.  I am  investigating 
in  the  abstract,  and  am  determining  what  is  in  itself  right 
and  true.  For  the  moment  I know  nothing,  so  to  say, 
of  history.  I take  things  as  I find  them  ; I have  no  con- 
cern with  the  past ; I find  myself  here  ; I set  myself  to 
the  duties  I find  here  ; I set  myself  to  further,  by  every 
means  in  my  power,  doctrines  and  views,  true  in  them- 


8 


Discourse  L 


/ 


selves,  recognized  by  Catholics  as  such,  familiar  to  my 
own  mind ; and  to  do  this  quite  apart  from  the  consider- 
ation of  questions  which  have  been  determined  without 
me  and  before  me.  I am  here  the  advocate  and  the 
minister  of  a certain  great  principle  ; yet  not  merely 
advocate  and  minister,  else  had  I not  been  here  at  all.  It 
has  been  my  previous  keen  sense  and  hearty  reception 
of  that  principle,  that  has  been  at  once  the  reason,  as  I | 
must  suppose,  of  my  being  selected  for  this  office, 
and  is  the  cause  of  my  accepting  it.  I am  told  on 
authority  that  a principle  is  expedient,  which  I have 
ever  felt  to  be  true.  And  I argue  in  its  behalf  on  its 
own  merits,  the  authority,  which  brings  me  here,  being 
my  opportunity  for  arguing,  but  not  the  ground  of  my 
argument  itself. 

And  a fourth  reason  is  here  suggested  for  consulting 
the  history  of  Protestant  institutions,  when  I am  going 
to  speak  of  the  object  and  nature  of  University  Education. 
It  will  serve  to  remind  you.  Gentlemen,  that  I am  con- 
cerned with  questions,  not  simply  of  immutable  truth, 
but  of  practice  and  expedience.  It  would  ill  have 
become  me  to  undertake  a subject,  on  which  points  of 
dispute  have  arisen  among  persons  so  far  above  me  in 
authority  and  name,  in  relation  to  a state  of  society, 
about  which  I have  so  much  to  learn,  if  it  involved  an 
appeal  to  sacred  truths,  or  the  determination  of  some 
imperative  rule  of  conduct.  It  would  have  been  pre- 
’’sumptuous  in  me  so  to  have  acted,  nor  am  I so  acting. 
Even  the  question  of  the  union  of  Theology  with  the 
secular  Sciences,  which  is  its  religious  side,  simple  as  it 
is  of  solution  in  the  abstract,  has,  according  to  difference 
of  circumstances,  been  at  different  times  differently 
decided.  Necessity  has  no  law,  and  expedience  is  often 
one  form  of  necessity.  It  is  no  principle  with  sensible 


Introductory. 


9 


men,  of  whatever  cast  of  opinion,  to  do  always  what  is 
abstractedly  best.  Where  no  direct  duty  forbids,  we 
nay  be  obliged  to  do,  as  being  best  under  circumstances, 
vhat  we  murmur  and  rise  against,  while  we  do  it.  We 
ee  that  to  attempt  more  is  to  effect  less ; that  we  must 
iccept  so  much,  or  gain  nothing  ; and  so  perforce  we 
'econcile  ourselves  to  what  we  would  have  far  otherwise, 
f we  could.  Thus  a system  of  what  is  called  secular 
education,  in  which  Theology  and  the  Sciences  are 
aught  separately,  may,  in  a particular  place  or  time,  be 
he  least  of  evils  ; it  may  be  of  long  standing ; it  may  be 
langerous  to  meddle  with ; it  may  be  professedly  a 
emporary  arrangement ; it  may  be  under  a process  of 
mprovement ; its  disadvantages  may  be  neutralized  by 
he  persons  by  whom,  or  the  provisions  under  which,  it  is 
idministered. 

Hence  it  was,  that  in  the  early  ages  the  Church  al- 
3wed  her  children  to  attend  the  heathen  schools  for  the 
pquisition  of  secular  accomplishments,  where,  as  no 
one  can  doubt,  evils  existed,  at  least  as  great  as  can 
attend  on  Mixed  Education  now.  The  gravest  Fathers 

f recommended  for  Christian  youth  the  use  of  Pagan 
masters ; the  most  saintly  Bishops  and  most  authorita- 
tive Doctors  had  been  sent  in  their  adolescence  by 
Christian  parents  to  Pagan  lecture  halls.*  And,  not  to 
I take  other  instances,  at  this  very  time,  and  in  this  very 
country,  as  regards  at  least  the  poorer  classes  of  the 
community,  whose  secular  acquirements  ever  must  be 
limited,  it  has  seemed  best  to  the  Irish  Bishops,  under 
1 the  circumstances,  to  suffer  the  introduction  into  the 
country  of  a system  of  Mixed  Education  in  the  schools 
called  National.  Such  a state  of  things,  however,  is 
passing  away  ; as  regards  University  education  at  least, 
• Vide  M.  L^Abhe  Lalanne’s  rcceiil  work. 


lO 


Discourse  /. 


the  highest  authority  has  now  decided  that  the  plan, 
which  is  abstractedly  best,  is  in  this  time  and  country 
also  most  expedient. 


4-  ] 

And  here  I have  an  opportunity  of  recognizing  once 
for  all  that  higher  view  of  approaching  the  subject  of 
these  Discourses,  which,  after  this  formal  recognition,  I 
mean  to  dispense  with.  Ecclesiastical  authority,  not 
argument,  is  the  supreme  rule  and  the  appropriate  guides 
for  Catholics  in  matters  of  religion.  It  has  always  the 
right  to  interpose,  and  sometimes,  in  the  conflict  of 
parties  and  opinions,  it  is  called  on  to  exercise  that 
right.  It  has  lately  exercised  it  in  our  own  instance  : it 
has  interposed  in  favour  of  a pure  University  system  for 
Catholic  youth,  forbidding  compromise  or  accommodation 
of  any  kind.  Of  course  its  decision  must  be  heartilji 
accepted  and  obeyed,  and  that  the  more,  because  thJ 
decision  proceeds,  not  simply  from  the  Bishops  of  IreJ 
land,  great  as  their  authority  is,  but  the  highest  authority 
on  earth,  from  the  Chair  of  St.  Peter. 

Moreover,  such  a decision  not  only  demands  our 
submission,  but  has  a claim  upon  our  trust.  It  not  only 
acts  as  a prohibition  of  any  measures,  but  as  an  ipso 
facto  confutation  of  any  reasonings,  inconsistent  with  it. 
It  carries  with  it  an  earnest  and  an  augury  of  its  own 
Inexpediency.  For  instance,  I can  fancy.  Gentlemen, 
there  may  be  some,  among  those  who  hear  me,  disposed 
to  say  that  they  are  ready  to  acquit  the  principles  of 
Education,  which  I am  to  advocate,  of  all  fault  what- 
ever, except  that  of  being  impracticable.  I can  fancy 
them  granting  to  me,  that  those  principles  are  most 
correct  and  most  obvious,  simply  irresistible  on  paper,  but 
maintaining,  nevertheless,  that  after  all,  they  are  nothing 


Introductory. 


11 


ore  than  the  dreams  of  men  who  live  out  of  the  world, 
nd  who  do  not  see  the  difficulty  of  keeping  Catholicism 
nyhow  afloat  on  the  bosom  of  this  wonderful  nine- 
teenth century.  Proved,  indeed,  those  principles  are,  to 
demonstration,  but  they  will  not  work.  Nay,  it  waT] 
ly  own  admission  just  now,  that,  in  a particular  in- 
tance,  it  might  easily  happen,  that  what  is  only  second 
St  is  best  practically,  because  what  is  actually  best  is 
ut  of  the  question.  ^ 

This,  I hear  you  say  to  yourselves,  is  the  state  of 
hings  at  present.  You  recount  in  detail  the  numberless 
ipediments,  great  and  small,  formidable  or  only  vexa- 
ous,  which  at  every  step  embarrass  the  attempt  to  carry 
ut  ever  so  poorly  a principle  in  itself  so  true  and 
cclesiastical.  You  appeal  in  your  defence  to  wise  and 
)agacious  intellects,  who  are  far  from  enemies  to  Catho- 
icism,  or  to  the  Irish  Hierarchy,  and  you  have  no  hope, 
r rather  you  absolutely  disbelieve,  that  Education  can 
ossibly  be  conducted,  here  and  now,  on  a theological 
principle,  or  that  youths  of  different  religions  can,  under 
the  circumstances  of  the  country,  be  educated  apart  from 
each  other.  The  more  you  think  over  the  state  of 
politics,  the  position  of  parties,  the  feelings  of  classes, 
and  the  experience  of  the  past,  the  more  chimerical 
does  it  seem  to  you  to  aim  at  a University,  of  which 
Catholicity  is  the  fundamental  principle.  Nay,  even  if 
the  attempt  could  accidentally  succeed,  would  not  the 
mischief  exceed  the  benefit  of  it  ? How  great  the 
sacrifices,  in  how  many  ways,  by  which  it  would  be 
preceded  and  followed ! how  many  wounds,  open  and 
secret,  would  it  inflict  upon  the  body  politic  ! And,  if 
it  fails,  which  is  to  be  expected,  then  a double  mischief 
will  ensue  from  its  recognition  of  evils  which  it  has  been 
unable  to  remedy.  These  are  your  deep  misgivings ; 


12 


Discourse  I. 


and,  in  proportion  to  the  force  with  which  they  come  t( 
you,  is  the  concern  and  anxiety  which  you  feel,  that 
there  should  be  those  whom  you  love,  whom  yoi 
revere,  who  from  one  cause  or  other  refuse  to  entei 
into  them. 


This,  I repeat,  is  what  some  good  Catholics  will  sa 
to  me,  and  more  than  this.  They  will  express  then 
selves  better  than  I can  speak  for  them  in  their  behalf,- 
with  more  earnestness  and  point,  with  more  force  c 
argument  and  fulness  of  detail ; and  I will  frankly  an 
at  once  acknowledge,  that  I shall  insist  on  the  high  the( 
logical  view  of  a University  without  attempting  to  giv 
a direct  answer  to  their  arguments  against  its  presen 
practicability.  I do  not  say  an  answer  cannot  be  given  ^ 
on  the  contrary,  I have  a confident  expectation  that,  iJ 
proportion  as  those  objections  are  looked  in  the  facJ 
they  will  fade  away.  But,  however  this  may  be,  it  would 
not  become  me  to  argue  the  matter  with  those  who 
understand  the  circumstances  of  the  problem  so  much 
better  than  myself.  What  do  I know  of  the  state  of  things 
in  Ireland,  that  I should  presume  to  put  ideas  of  mine' 
which  could  not  be  right  except  by  accident,  by  the  sid^ 
of  theirs,  who  speak  in  the  country  of  their  birth  and 
their  home.^  No,  Gentlemen,  you  are  natural  judges  of 
the  difficulties  which  beset  us,  and  they  are  doubtless; 
greater  than  I can  even  fancy  or  forbode.  Let  me,  for 
the  sake  of  argument,  admit  all  you  say  against  our 
enterprise,  and  a great  deal  more.  Your  proof  of  its 
intrinsic  impossibility  shall  be  to  me  as  cogent  as  my 
own  of  its  theological  advisableness.  Why,  then,  should 
I be  so  rash  and  perverse  as  to  involve  myself  in  trouble 
not  properly  mine  ? Why  go  out  of  my  own  place  ? 


hitroductory , 


13 


Why  so  headstrong  and  reckless  as  to  lay  up  for  myself 
niscarriage  and  disappointment,  as  though  I were  not 
ure  to  have  enough  of  personal  trial  anyhow  without 
oing  about  to  seek  for  it  ? 

Reflections  such  as  these  would  be  decisive  even 
ith  the  boldest  and  most  capable  minds,  but  for  one 
)nsideration.  In  the  midst  of  our  difficulties  I have 
le  ground  of  hope,  just  one  stay,  but,  as  I think,  a 
fficient  one,  which  serves  me  in  the  stead  of  all  other 
gument  whatever,  which  hardens  me  against  criticism, 
lich  supports  me  if  I begin  to  despond,  and  to 
hich  I ever  come  round,  when  the  question  of  the 
ossible  and  the  expedient  is  brought  into  discussion, 
t is  the  decision  of  the  Holy  See  ; St.  Peter  has  spoken, 
is  he  who  has  enjoined  that  which  seems  to  us  so 
npromising.  He  has  spoken,  and  has  a claim  on  us  to 
ust  him.  He  is  no  recluse,  no  solitary  student,  no 
reamer  about  the  past,  no  doter  upon  the  dead  and 
one,  no  projector  of  the  visionary.  He  for  eighteen 
undred  years  has  lived  in  the  world ; he  has  seen  all 
ortunes,  he  has  encountered  all  adversaries,  he  has 
haped  himself  for  all  emergencies.  If  ever  there  was 
a power  on  earth  who  had  an  eye  for  the  times,  who 
has  confined  himself  to  the  practicable,  and  has  been 
happy  in  his  anticipations,  whose  words  have  been  facts, 
and  whose  commands  prophecies,  such  is  he  in  the 
history  of  ages,  who  sits  from  generation  to  generation 
in  the  Chair  of  the  Apostles,  as  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  and 
the  Doctor  of  His  Church. 


6. 

These  are  not  the  words  of  rhetoric,  Gentlemen,  but  of 
history.  All  who  take  part  with  the  Apostle,  are  on  the 
winning  side.  He  has  long  since  given  warrants  for  the 


Discourse  1. 


14 


confidence  which  he  claims.  From  the  first  he  ha 
looked  through  the  wide  world,  of  which  he  has  th| 
burden  ; and,  according  to  the  need  of  the  day,  and  t' 
inspirations  of  his  Lord,  he  has  set  himself  now  to  o 
thing,  now  to  another ; but  to  all  in  season,  and  to  n 
thing  in  vain.  He  came  first  upon  an  age  of  refineme] 
and  luxury  like  our  own,  and,  in  spite  of  the  persecute 
fertile  in  the  resources  of  his  cruelty,  he  soon  gather 
out  of  all  classes  of  society,  the  slave,  the  soldier,  t! 
high-born  lady,  and  the  sophist,  materials  enough 
form  a people  to  his  Master’s  honour.  The  savage  hor 
come  down  in  torrents  from  the  north,  and  Peter  we 
out  to  meet  them,  and  by  his  very  eye  he  sobered  the 
and  backed  them  in  their  full  career.  They  turned  asi 
and  flooded  the  whole  earth,  but  only  to  be  more  sure! 
civilized  by  him,  and  to  be  made  ten  times  more  h 
children  even  than  the  older  populations  which  theyh; 
overwhelmed.  Lawdess  kings  arose,  sagacious  as  t 
Roman,  passionate  as  the  Hun,  yet  in  him  they  fou: 
their  match,  and  were  shattered,  and  he  lived  on.  Thl 
gates  of  the  earth  were  opened  to  the  east  and  west,  an? 
men  poured  out  to  take  possession  ; but  he  went  witj 


them  by  his  missionaries,  to  China,  to  Mexico,  carrie? 
along  by  zeal  and  charity,  as  far  as  those  children  < 
men  were  led  by  enterprise,  covetousness,  or  ambition 
Has  he  failed  in  his  successes  up  to  this  hour  ? Did  he 
in  our  fathers’  day,  fail  in  his  struggle  with  Joseph  o 
Germany  and  his  confederates,  with  Napoleon,  a greate 
name,  and  his  dependent  kings,  that,  though  in  anothe 
kind  of  fight,  he  should  fail  in  ours  ? What  grey  hair 
are  on  the  head  of  Judah,  whose  youth  is  renewed  lik 
the  eagle’s,  whose  feet  are  like  the  feet  of  harts,  am 
underneath  the  Everlasting  arms  ? 

In  the  first  centuries  of  the  Church  all  this  practica 


Introductory. 


15 


sagacity  of  Holy  Church  was  mere  matter  of  faith,  but 
every  age,  as  it  has  come,  has  confirmed  faith  by  actual 
sight ; and  shame  on  us,  if,  with  the  accumulated  testi- 
mony of  eighteen  centuries,  our  eyes  are  too  gross  to 
see  those  victories  which  the  Saints  have  ever  seen  by 
anticipation.  Least  of  all  can  we,  the  Catholics  of  islands 
which  have  in  the  cultivation  and  diffusion  of  Knowledge 
eretofore  been  so  singularly  united  under  the  auspices 
■)f  the  Apostolic  See,  least  of  all  can  we  be  the  men  to 
istrust  its  wisdom  and  to  predict  its  failure,  when  it 
[;ends  us  on  a similar  mission  now.  I cannot  forget  that, 
it  a time  when  Celt  and  Saxon  were  alike  savage,  it  was 
e See  of  Peter  that  gave  both  of  them,  first  faith, 
en  civilization  ; and  then  again  bound  them  together 
one  by  the  seal  of  a joint  commission  to  convert  and 
uminate  in  their  turn  the  pagan  continent.  I cannot 
rget  how  it  was  from  Rome  that  the  glorious  St.  Patrick 
*as  sent  to  Ireland,  and  did  a work  so  great  that  he 
[ould  not  have  a successor  in  it,  the  sanctity  and  learning 
d zeal  and  charity  which  followed  on  his  death  being 
iut  the  result  of  the  one  impulse  which  he  gave.  I 
nnot  forget  how,  in  no  long  time,  under  the  fostering 
breath  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  a country  of  heathen  super- 
'stitions  became  the  very  wonder  and  asylum  of  all  people, 
— the  wonder  by  reason  of  its  knowledge,  sacred  and 
profane,  and  the  asylum  of  religion,  literature  and 
science,  when  chased  away  from  the  continent  by  the 
barbarian  invaders.  I recollect  its  hospitality,  freely 
accorded  to  the  pilgrim  ; its  volumes  munificently  pre- 
sented to  the  foreign  student ; and  the  prayers,  the 
blessings,  the  holy  rites,  the  solemn  chants,  which  sancti- 
fied the  while  both  giver  and  receiver. 

Nor  can  I forget  either,  how  my  own  England  had 
meanwhile  become  the  solicitude  of  the  same  unwearied 


i6 


Discourse  L 


eye  : how  Augustine  was  sent  to  us  by  Gregory  ; how  hel 
fainted  in  the  way  at  the  tidings  of  our  fierceness,  and,  j 
but  for  the  Pope,  would  have  shrunk  as  from  anj 
impossible  expedition ; how  he  was  forced  on  ini 
weakness  and  in  fear  and  in  much  trembling/'  until  hel 
had  achieved  the  conquest  of  the  island  to  Christ.  Nor,j 
again,  how  it  came  to  pass  that,  when  Augustine  diec 
and  his  work  slackened,  another  Pope,  unwearied  stil| 
sent  three  saints  from  Rome,  to  ennoble  and  refine  thl 
people  Augustine  had  converted.  Three  holy  men  sti 
out  for  England  together,  of  different  nations  : Theodore 
an  Asiatic  Greek,  from  Tarsus  ; Adrian,  an  AfricanJ 
Bennett  alone  a Saxon,  for  Peter  knows  no  distinction 
races  in  his  ecumenical  work.  They  came  with  theoloe 
and  science  in  their  train  ; with  relics,  with  pictures,  wi  j 
manuscripts  of  the  Holy  Fathers  and  the  Greek  classic 
and  Theodore  and  Adrian  founded  schools,  secular  ai 
monastic,  all  over  England,  while  Bennett  brought  to  t} 
north  the  large  library  he  had  collected  in  foreign  parti 
and,  with  plans  and  ornamental  work  from  Francf 
erected  a church  of  stone,  under  the  invocation  of 
Peter,  after  the  Roman  fashion,  which/'  says  the  hi^ 
torian,*  “he  most  affected."  I call  to  mind  how 
Wilfrid,  St.  John  of  Beverley,  St.  Bede,  and  other  saintlj 
men,  carried  on  the  good  work  in  the  following  genera- 1 
tions  and  how  from  that  time  forth  the  two  islands, 
England  and  Ireland,  in  a dark  and  dreary  age,  were 
the  two  lights  of  Christendom,  and  had  no  claims  on  each 
other,  and  no  thought  of  self,  save  in  the  interchange  of 
kind  offices  and  the  rivalry  of  love. 


7‘ 

O memorable  time,  when  St.  Aidan  and  the  Irish 

* Cressy. 


Introductory. 


17 

^ iks  went  up  to  Lindisfarne  and  Melrose,  and  taught 
e Saxon  youth,  and  when  a St.  Cuthbert  and  a St 
^ata  repaid  their  charitable  toil!  O blessed  days 
^of  peace  and  confidence,  when  the  Celtic  Mailduf  pene- 
Itrated  to  Malmesbury  in  the  south,  which  has  inherited 
IIS  name  and  founded  there  the  famous  school  which 
•ave  birth  to  the  great  St.  Aldhelm  I O precious  seal 
nd  testimony  of  Gospel  unity,  when,  as  Aldhelm  in 
hrn  tells  us,  the  English  went  to  Ireland  “numerous  as 
lees  ; when  the  Saxon  St.  Egbert  and  St.  Willibrod 
•eachers  to  the  heathen  Prisons,  made  the  voyage  to 
•eland  to  prepare  themselves  for  their  work  ; and  when 
om  Ireland  went  forth  to  Germany  the  two  noble 
fwalds,  Saxons  also,  to  earn  the  crown  of  martyrdom  ' 
|uch  a period,  indeed,  so  rich  in  grace,  in  peace,  in  love,' 
hd  in  good  works,  could  only  last  for  a season;  but 
-n  when  the  light  was  to  pass  away  from  them,  the 
:er  islands  were  destined,  not  to  forfeit,  but  to  transmit 
together.  The  time  came  when  the  neighbouring 
mtmental  country  was  in  turn  to  hold  the  mission 
■hich  they  had  exercised  so  long  and  well;  and  when 
-o  It  they  made  over  their  honourable  office,  faithful  to 
•he  alliance  of  two  hundred  years,  they  made  it  a joint 
ict.  Alcuin  was  the  pupil  both  of  the  English  and  of 
e Irish  schools ; and  when  Charlemagne  would  revive 
cience  and  letters  m his  own  France,  it  was  Alcuin,  the 
epresentative  both  of  the  Saxon  and  the  Celt,  who  was 
he  chief  of  those  who  went  forth  to  supply  the  need  of 
e great  Emperor.  Such  was  the  foundation  of  the 
>chool  of  Paris,  from  which,  in  the  course  of  centuries 
prang  the  famous  University,  the  glory  of  the  middle 

^CS. 


The  past  never  returns;  the  course  of  events,  old  in 

2 


i8 


Discourse  L 


its  texture,  is  ever  new  in  its  colouring  and  fashi 
England  and  Ireland  are  not  what  they  once  were,  b* 
Rome  is  where  it  was,  and  St.  Peter  is  the  same  : hi, 
zeal,  his  charity,  his  mission,  his  gifts  are  all  the  same. 
' He  of  old  made  the  two  islands  one  by  giving  them 
joint  work  of  teaching ; and  now  surely  he  is  giving  us 
a like  mission,  and  we  shall  become  one  again,  while  we 
zealously  and  lovingly  fulfil  it. 


DISCOURSE  11. 


THEOLOGY  A BRANCH  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


rHERE  were  two  questions,  to  which  I drew  your 
attention,  Gentlemen,  in  the  beginning  of  my  first 
iscourse,  as  being  of  especial  importance  and  interest 
this  time:  first,  whether  it  is  consistent  with  the  idea 
University  teaching  to  exclude  Theology  from  a place 
nong  the  sciences  which  it  embraces  ; next,  whether  it 
consistent  with  that  idea  to  make  the  useful  arts  and 
iences  its  direct  and  principal  concern,  to  the  neglect 
those  liberal  studies  and  exercises  of  mind,  in  which 
has  heretofore  been  considered  mainly  to  consist, 
hese  are  the  questions  which  will  form  the  subject  of 
hat  I have  to  lay  before  you,  and  I shall  now  enter  upon 
e former  of  the  two. 


It  is  the  fashion  just  now,  as  you  very  well  know,  to 
ect  so-called  Universities,  without  making  any  provi- 
)n  in  them  at  all  for  Theological  chairs.  Institutions 
this  kind  exist  both  here  and  in  England.  Such  a 
[ocedure,  though  defended  by  writers  of  the  genera- 
in  just  passed  with  much  plausible  argument  and  not 
[ittle  wit,  seems  to  me  an  intellectual  absurdity ; and 
reason  for  saying  so  runs,  with  whatever  abruptness, 
the  form  of  a syllogism  : — A University,  I should 


20 


Discourse  //• 


knowledge,  and  y«  “ 3,  as  important| 

vef/nle  of  university  is  inconsistent  w;‘”;'“f 
f Lv  kind  Whatever  was  the  original  reason  ot  th4 
l“L":ttkat  ter.  wkick  is 

C"f  uXlrsirskonM 

T'hiit  there  is  a,  real  necessity  tor  j 

ihat  tnere  intellect  I will  show  by-and-b\ 

LtltTsl:«  such  — Uty  is^cJ 

and  Mosheiin,  writing  , instance,  at  Padu£ 

theriseoftheUnivers..yomn^^^^^^^^^ 

not  taig^i;  hut  « 

"and  Studen.s%t 
:L  tot  to  embrace  all  the  arts  and  saences,  and  then 

X:  au“-cLsider  Je  wmd  .0  1 

th^'e  .m 

for,  if  certain  branches  of  knowledge  were  exclu 

Wid.  KexL«tl,  de  ScMis.l 


In  Roman  law  it  means  a Corporation. 
+ Hist.  vol.  ii.  p.  529- 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge.  21 

those  students  of  course  would  be  excluded  also,  who 
desired  to  pursue  them. 

! Is  it,  then,  logically  consistent  in  a seat  of  learning 
to  call  itself  a University,  and  to  exclude  Theology 
from  the  number  of  its  studies  And  again,  is  it  won- 
derful that  Catholics,  even  in  the  view  of  reason,  putting 
aside  faith  or  religious  duty,  should  be  dissatisfied  with 
|existing  institutions,  which  profess  to  be  Universities, 
id  refuse  to  teach  Theology ; and  that  they  should  in 
«nsequence  desire  to  possess  seats  of  learning,  which 
! ire,  not  only  more  Christian,  but  more  philosophical 
if  their  construction,  and  larger  and  deeper  in  their 
I jrovisions 

I i but  this,  of  course,  is  to  assume  that  Theology  is  a 
pcience,  and  an  important  one : so  I will  throw  my  argu- 
ment into  a more  exact  form.  I say,  then,  that  if  a 
University  be,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  a place  of 
fistruction,  where  universal  knowledge  is  professed,  and 
in  a certain  University,  so  called,  the  subject  of  Reli- 
ion  is  excluded,  one  of  two  conclusions  is  inevitable, — 
ither,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  province  of  Religion  is 
ery  barren  of  real  knowledge,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
n such  University  one  special  and  important  branch  of 
cnowledge  is  omitted.  I say,  the  advocate  of  such  an 
nstitution  must  say  this,  or  he  must  say  that;  he  must  own, 
Ither  that  little  or  nothing  is  known  about  the  Supreme 
^eing,  or  that  his  seat  of  learning  calls  itself  what  it  is  not. 
This  is  the  thesis  which  I lay  down,  and  on  which  I shall 
nsist  as  the  subject  of  this  Discourse.  I repeat,  such  a 
iompromise  between  religious  parties,  as  is  involved  in 
^e  establishment  of  a University  which  makes  no  reli- 
gious profession,  implies  that  those  parties  severally 
onsider, — not  indeed  that  their  own  respective  opinions 
re  trifles  in  a moral  and  practical  point  of  view — of 


22 


Discourse  11. 


course  not ; but  certainly  as  much  as  this,  that  they 
are  not  knowledge.  Did  they  in  their  hearts  believe 
that  their  private  views  of  religion,  whatever  they  are, 
were  absolutely  and  objectively  true,  it  is  inconceivable 
that  they  would  so  insult  them  as  to  consent  to  their, 
omission  in  an  Institution  which  is  bound,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case— from  its  very  idea  and  its  name— 
to  make  a profession  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge  whatever. 


I think  this  will  be  found  to  be  no  matter  of  words. , 
I allow  then  fully,  that,  when  men  combine  together  [ 
for  any  common  object,  they  are  obliged,  as  a matter  of,j 
course,  in  order  to  secure  the  advantages  accruing 
united  action,  to  sacrifice  many  of  their  private  opinion^! 
and  wishes,  and  to  drop  the  minor  differences,  as  thejR 
are  commonly  called,  which  exist  between  man  and  manf' 
^No  two  persons  perhaps  are  to  be  found,  however  intj. 
mate,  however  congenial  in  tastes  and  judgments,  hovt;^ 
ever  eager  to  have  one  heart  and  one  soul,  but  mus 
deny  themselves,  for  the  sake  of  each  other,  much  whicj'. 
they  like  or  desire,  if  they  are  to  live  together  happily  , 
^Compromise,  in  a large  sense  of  the  word,  is  the  fir# 
principle  of  combination/;  and  any  one  who  insists  ot 
enjoying  his  rights  to  the  full,  and  -his  opinions  without 
toleration  for  his  neighbour’s,  and  his  own  way  in  all 
things,  will  soon  have  all  things  altogether  to  himself, 
and  no  one  to  share  them  with  him.^  But  most  true  as 
this  confessedly  is,  still  there  is  an  obvious  limit,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  these  compromises,  however  necessary  they 
be  • and  this  is  found  in  the  proviso,  that  the  differences 
surrendered  should  be  but  “ minor,”  or  that  there  shoulc 
be  no  sacrifice  of  the  main  object  of  the  combination  ii 
the  concessions  which  are  mutually  made.  Any  sacrifice 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge, 


23 


which  compromises  that  object  is  destructive  of  the 
principle  of  the  combination,  and  no  one  who  would  be 
consistent  can  be  a party  to  it. 

Thus,  for  instance,  if  men  of  various  religious  denomi- 
nations join  together  for  the  dissemination  of  what  are 
called  evangelical ''  tracts,  it  is  under  the  belief,  that, 
the  object  of  their  uniting,  as  recognized  on  all  hands, 
being  the  spiritual  benefit  of  their  neighbours,  no  reli- 
gious exhortations,  whatever  be  their  character,  can 
essentially  interfere  with  that  benefit,  which  faithfully 
%sist  upon  the  Lutheran  doctrine  of  Justification.  If, 
^igain,  they  agree  together  in  printing  and  circulating  the 
^^?rotestant  Bible,  it  is  because  they,  one  and  all,  hold  to 
he  principle,  that,  however  serious  be  their  differences 
hf  religious  sentiment,  such  differences  fade  away  before 
the  one  great  principle,  which  that  circulation  symbolizes 
— that  the  Bible,  the  whole  Bible,  and  nothing  but  the 
1 Bible,  is  the  religion  of  Protestants.  On  the  contrary, 
jjif  the  committee  of  some  such  association  inserted  tracts 
/into  the  copies  of  the  said  Bible  which  they  sold,  and 
tracts  in  recommendation  of  the  Athanasian  Creed  or 
the  merit  of  good  works,  I conceive  any  subscribing 
member  would  have  a just  right  to  complain  of  a pro- 
ceeding, which  compromised  the  principle  of  Private 
Judgment  as  the  one  true  interpreter  of  Scripture. 
These  instances  are  sufficient  to  illustrate  my  general 
position,  that  coalitions  and  comprehensions  for  an 
object,  have  their  life  in  the  prosecution  of  that  object, 
and  cease  to  have  any  meaning  as  soon  as  that  object  is 
compromised  or  disparaged. 

When,  then,  a number  of  persons  come  forward,  not 
ias  politicians,  not  as  diplomatists,  lawyers,  traders,  or 
I speculators,  but  with  the  one  object  of  advancing  Uni- 
I versal  Knowledge,  much  we  may  allow  them  to  sacrifice. 


24 


Discourse  II. 


— ambition,  reputation,  leisure,  comfort,  party-interests, 
gold  ; one  thing  they  may  not  sacrifice,— Knowledge 
itself.  Knowledge  being  their  object,  they  need  not  of 
course  insist  on  their  own  private  views  about  ancient  or 
modern  history,  or  national  prosperity,  or  the  balance  qf 
power;  they  need  not  of  course  shrink  from  the  co-ope- 
ration of  those  who  hold  the  opposite  views  ; but  stipulate  ^ 


qiid  non  in  a seat  of  learning,  who  did  not  think  it  simply^ 
ignorance  not  to  be  a Malthusian ; and  no  one  wouldll 
consent  to  drop  the  Newtonian  theory,  who  thought  it  a 
to  have  been  proved  true,  in  the  same  sense  as  the  exha 
istence  of  the  sun  and  moon  is  true.  If,  then,  in  aric 
Institution  which  professes  all  knowledge,  nothing  i<i>‘ 
professed,  nothing  is  taught  about  the  Supreme  BeingL] 
it  is  fair  to  infer  that  every  individual  in  the  number  o|i 
those  who  advocate  that  Institution,  supposing  him  con-| 
sistent,  distinctly  holds  that  nothing  is  known  for  certain! 
about  the  Supreme  Being ; nothing  such,  as  to  have  any’ 
claim  to  be  regarded  as  a material  addition  to  the  stock 
of  general  knowledge  existing  in  the  world.  If  on  the 
other  hand  it  turns  out  that  something  considerable  is 
known  about  the  Supreme  Being,  whether  from  Reason 
or  Revelation,  then  the  Institution  in  question  professes 
every  science,  and  yet  leaves  out  the  foremost  of  them. 
In  a word,  strong  as  may  appear  the  assertion,  I do  not 
see  hoAv  I can  avoid  making  it,  and  bear  with  me,  Gentle- 


they  must  that  Knowledge  itselt  is  not  compromisea 
and  as  to  those  views,  of  whatever  kind,  which  they 


allow  to  be  dropped,  it  is  plain  they  consider  such  to  iW' 


opinions,  and  nothing  more,  however  dear,  however  iirt  J 

dioul;  ] 


portant  to  themselves  personally ; opinions  ingenioul  > 
admirable,  pleasurable,  beneficial,  expedient,  but  r 
worthy  the  name  of  Knowledge  or  Science  Thus 
one  would  insist  on  the  Malthusian  teaching  being  a sinl 


25 


Theology  a Branch  oj  Knowledge. 

men,  while  I do  so,  viz.,  such  an  Institution  cannot  be 
what  it  professes,  if  there  be  a God.  I do  not  wish  to 
declaim ; but,  by  the  very  force  of  the  terms,  it  is  very 
plain,  that  a Divine  Being  and  a University  so  circum- 
stanced cannot  co-exist. 


Still,  however,  this  may  seem  to  many  an  abrupt  con- 

Edusion,  and  will  not  be  acquiesced  in : what  answer, 
entlemen,  will  be  made  to  it  ? Perhaps  this : — It  will 
: said,  that  there  are  different  kinds  or  spheres  of 
nowledge,  human,  divine,  sensible,  intellectual,  and  the 
ixe ; and  that  a University  certainly  takes  in  all  varie- 
ties of  Knowledge  in  its  own  line,  but  still  that  it  has 
line  of  its  own.  It  contemplates,  it  occupies  a certain 
ler,  a certain  platform,  of  Knowledge.  I understand 
remark ; but  I own  to  you,  I do  not  understand  how 
|:an  be  made  to  apply  to  the  matter  in  hand.  I can- 
1,  so  construct  my  definition  of  the  subject-matter  of 
"iversity  Knowledge,  and  so  draw  my  boundary  lines 
“id  it,  as  to  include  therein  the  other  sciences  corn- 
studied  at  Universities,  and  to  exclude  the 
[ce  of  Religion.  For  instance,  are  we  to  limit  our 
|Of  University  Knowledge  by  the  evidence  of  our 
:s  ? then  we  exclude  ethics  ; by  intuition  "i  we  ex- 
: history ; by  testimony  ? we  exclude  metaphysics  ; 
'abstract  reasoning  ? we  exclude  physics.  Is  not  the 
iig  of  a God  reported  to  us  by  testimony,  handed 
vn  by  history,  inferred  by  an  inductive  process,  brought 
|ne  to  us  by  metaphysical  necessity,  urged  on  us  by 
suggestions  of  our  conscience  ? It  is  a truth  in  the 
•iral  order,  as  well  as  in  the  supernatural.  So  much 
jits  origin  ; and,  when  obtained,  what  is  it  worth  .?  Is 
great  truth  or  a small  one  ? Is  it  a comprehensive 


26 


Discourse  II. 


truth  ? Say  that  no  other  religious  idea  whatever  were 
given  but  it,  and  you  have  enough  to  fill  the  mind  ; you 
have  at  once  a whole  dogmatic  system.  The  wor 
“God”  is  a Theology  in  itself,  indivisibly  one,  inex; 
haustibly  various,  from  the  vastness  and  the  simplicitj 
of  its  meaning.  Admit  a God,  and  you  mtrodua 
among  the  subjects  of  your  knowledge,  a fact  encom 
passing,  closing  in  upon,  absorbing,  every  other  fac 
conceivable.  How  can  we  investigate  any  part  of  am 
order  of  Knowledge,  and  stop  short  of  that  which  enbtc 
into  every  order?  All  true  principles  run  over  with  >, 
all  phenomena  converge  to  it ; it  is  truly  the  First  a , 
the  Last.  In  word  indeed,  and  in  idea,  it  is  easy  enou^ 
to  divide  Knowledge  into  human  and  divine,  secular  an 

r 

t 

i 

I 

1 

c 

] 

1 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge.  27 

large  a fact  as  that  huge  monsters  once  played  amid  its 
depths  ; that  Antichrist  is  to  come,  is  as  categorical  a 
heading  to  a chapter  of  history,  as  that  Nero  or  Julian 
was  Emperor  of  Rome ; that  a divine  influence  moves 
the  will,  is  a subject  of  thought  not  more  mysterious 
than  the  result  of  volition  on  our  muscles,  which  we 
admit  as  a fact  in  metaphysics. 

I do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  for  a philosophical  mind, 

^ to  believe  these  religious  facts  to  be  true  ; next,  to 
ent  to  ignore  them ; and  thirdly,  in  spite  of  this,  to  go 
b profess  to  be  teaching  all  the  while  de  omni  scibili. 

if  a man  thinks  in  his  heart  that  these  religious  facts 
short  of  truth,  that  they  are  not  true  in  the  sense  in 
Jich  the  general  fact  and  the  law  of  the  fall  of  a stone  to 
fe  earth  is  true,  I understand  his  excluding  Religion  from 
Is  University,  though  he  professes  other  reasons  for  its 
fcclusion.  In  that  case  the  varieties  of  religious  opinion 
ider  which  he  shelters  his  conduct,  are  not  only  his 
lology  for  publicly  disowning  Religion,  but  a cause  of 
s privately  disbelieving  it.  He  does  not  thmk  that  any 
jng  is  known  or  can  be  known  for  certain,  about  the 
in  of  the  world  or  the  end  of  man. 


riiis,  I fear,  is  the  conclusion  to  which  intellects,  clear, 
lical,  and  consistent,  have  come,  or  are  coming,  from 
i nature  of  the  case ; and,  alas  ! in  addition  to  this 
\md-facte  suspicion,  there  are  actual  tendencies  in  the 
le  direction  in  Protestantism,  viewed  whether  in  its 
Iginal  idea,  or  again  in  the  so-called  Evangelical  move- 
Tnt  in  these  islands  during  the  last  century.  The  reli- 
lus  world,  as  it  is  styled,  holds,  generally  speaking,  that 
^igion  consists,  not  in  knowledge,  but  in  feeling  or  senti- 
it.  The  old  Catholic  notion,  which  still  lingers  in  the 


28 


Discourse  II. 


Established  Church,  was,  that  Faith  was  an  intellectual 
act,  its  object  truth,  and  its  result  knowledge.  Thus  it 
you  look  into  the  Anglican  Prayer  Book,  you  will  find 
definite  credenda,  as  well  as  definite  agenda;  but  in  pro- 
portion as  the  Lutheran  leaven  spread,  it  became  fashion- 
able to  say  that  Faith  was,  not  an  acceptance  of  revealed 
doctrine,  not  an  act  of  the  intellect,  but  a feeling,  an 
emotion,  an  affection,  an  appetency;  and,  as  this  view 
of  Faith  obtained,  so  was  the  connexion  of  Faith  ^tb 
Truth  and  Knowledge  more  and  more  either  forg^ 
or  denied.  At  length  the  identity  of  this  (so-Cc 
spirituality  of  heart  and  the  virtue  of  Faith  was  ack^ 
lodged  on  all  hands.  Some  men  indeed  disapprc 
the  pietism  in  question,  others  admired  it ; but  whetl 
they  admired  or  disapproved,  both  the  one  party  ^ 
the  other  found  themselves  in  agreement  on  the  maif  i' 
point,  viz. — in  considering  that  this  really  was  in  suV 
stance  Religion,  and  nothing  else  ; that  Religion  ^ 
based,  not  on  argument,  but  on  taste  and  sentiment,  tl . 
nothing  was  objective,  every  thing  subjective,  in  doctrii  ■ 
I say,  ev^en  those  who  saw  through  the  affectation 
which  the  religious  school  of  which  I am  speaking  cj 
itself,  still  came  to  think  that  Religion,  as  such,  consis 
in  something  short  of  intellectual  exercises,  viz.,  in 
affections,  in  the  imagination,  in  inward  persuasions 
consolations,  in  pleasurable  sensations,  sudden  chanj 
and  sublime  fancies.  T.hey  learned  to  believe  ancfl 
take  it  for  granted,  that  Religion  was  nothing  beyonj 
■supply  of  the  wants  of  human  nature,  not  an  exteij 
fact  and  a work  of  God.  There  was,  it  appearec 
demand  for  Religion,  and  therefore  there  was  a supi 
human  nature  could  not  do  without  Religion,  any  no 
than  it  could  do  without  bread  ; a supply  was  absoluj 
necessary,  good  or  bad,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  the  art 


29 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge. 

of  daily  sustenance,  an  article  which  was  really  inferior 
was  better  than  none  at  all.  Thus  Religion  was  useful, 
venerable,  beautiful,  the  sanction  of  order,  the  stay  of 
government,  the  curb  of  self-will  and  self-indulgence, 
which  the  laws  cannot  reach : but,  after  all,  on  what  was 
it  based?  Why,  that  was  a question  delicate  to  ask, 
and  imprudent  to  answer ; but,  if  the  truth  must  be 
spoken,  however  reluctantly,  the  long  and  the  short  of 
the  matter  was  this,  that  Religion  was  based  on  custom, 
bn  prejudice,  on  law,  on  education,  on  habit,  on  loyalty, 
bn  feudalism,  on  enlightened  expedience,  on  many, 
^any  things,  but  not  at  all  on  reason  ; reason  was  nei- 
ther its  warrant,  nor  its  instrument,  and  science  had  as 
dttle  connexion  with  it  as  with  the  fashions  of  the  season, 
>r  the  state  of  the  weather. 

, I You  see.  Gentlemen,  how  a theory  or  philosophy, 
ftrhich  began  with  the  religious  changes  of  the  sixteenth 
tentury,  has  led  to  conclusions,  which  the  authors  of 
those  changes  would  be  the  first  to  denounce,  and  has 
seen  taken  up  by  that  large  and  influential  body  which 
roes  by  the  name  of  Liberal  or  Latitudinarian  ; and  how, 
cjhere  it  prevails,  it  is  as  unreasonable  of  course  to  de- 
ijiand  for  Religion  a chair  in  a University,  as  to  demand 
|ne  for  fine  feeling,  sense  of  honour,  patriotism,  grati- 
ijide,  maternal  affection,  or  good  companionship,  pro- 
posals which  would  be  simply  unmeaning. 


Now,  in  illustration  of  what  I have  been  saying,  I will 
.ppeal,  in  the  first  place,  to  a statesman,  but  not  merely 
o,  to  no  mere  politician,  no  trader  in  places,  or  in  votes, 
r in  the  stock  market,  but  to  a philosopher,  to  an  orator, 
o one  whose  profession,  whose  aim,  has  ever  been  to 
ultivate  the  fair,  the  noble,  and  the  generous.  I cannot 


30 


Discourse  IL 


forget  the  celebrated  discourse  of  the  celebrated  man  to 
whom  I am  referring  ; a man  who  is  first  in  his  peculiar 
walk;  and  who,  moreover  (which  is  much  to  my  purpose), 
has  had  a share,  as  much  as  any  one  alive,  in  effecting 
the  public  recognition  in  these  Islands  of  the  principle 
of  separating  secular  and  religious  knowledge.  This 
brilliant  thinker,  during  the  years  in  which  he  was  exert- 
ing himself  in  behalf  of  this  principle,  made  a speech 
or  discourse,  on  occasion  of  a public  solemnity ; and  in 
reference  to  the  bearing  of  general  knowledge  upon  reli- 
gious belief,  he  spoke  as  follows  : 

As  men,'’  he  said,  will  no  longer  suffer  themselves  ^ 
to  be  led  blindfold  in  ignorance,  so  will  they  no  mor^ 
yield  to  the  vile  principle  of  judging  and  treating  their, 
fellow-creatures,  not  according  to  the  intrinsic  merit  o.f 
their  actions,  but  according  to  the  accidental  and  iiyi- 
voluntary  coincidence  of  their  opinions.  The  grear^t 
truth  has  finally  gone  forth  to  all  the  ends  of  the  earthy  ” 
and  he  prints  it  in  capital  letters,  that  man  shall  no  more 
render  account  to  man  for  his  belief,  over  which  he  hasA^ 
himself  no  control.  Henceforward,  nothing  shall  prevail 
upon  us  to  praise  or  to  blame  any  one  for  that  which  h,^ 
can  no  more  change,  than  he  can  the  hue  of  his  skin  cf 
the  height  of  his  stature.”*  You  see.  Gentlemen,  if  thii 
philosopher  is  to  decide  the  matter,  religious  ideas  ar| 
just  as  far  from  being  real,  or  representing  anythin; 
beyond  themselves,  are  as  truly  peculiarities,  idiosyn 
cracies,  accidents  of  the  individual,  as  his  having  th 
stature  of  a Patagonian,  or  the  features  of  a Negro. 

But  perhaps  this  was  the  rhetoric  of  an  excited 
moment.  Far  from  it.  Gentlemen,  or  I should  not  have 
fastened  on  the  words  of  a fertile  mind,  uttered  so  loni 
ago.  What  Mr.  Brougham  laid  down  as  a principle  in| 

* Mr.  Brougham’s  Glasgow  Discourse. 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge.  3;. 

(825,  resounds  on  all  sides  of  us,  with  ever-growing  con- 
fidence and  success,  in  1852.  I open  the  Minutes  of 
the  Committee  of  Council  on  Education  for  the  years 
1848-50,  presented  to  both  Houses  of  Parliament  by  com- 
mand of  Her  Majesty,  and  I find  one  of  Her  Majesty’s 
Inspectors  of  Schools,  at  p.  467  of  the  second  volume, 
dividing  “ the  topics  usually  embraced  in  the  better  class 
of  primary  schools”  into  four  : — the  knowledge  of  signs, 
as  reading  and  writing ; of  facts,  as  geography  and 
astronomy ; of  relations  and  laws,  as  mathematics  ; and 
lastly  sentiment,  such  as  poetry  and  music.  Now,  on 
first  catching  sight  of  this  division,  it  occurred  to  me  to 
ask  myself,  before  ascertaining  the  writer’s  own  resolu- 
tion of  the  matter,  under  which  of  these  four  heads 
would  fall  Religion,' or  whether  it  fell  under  any  of  them. 
Did  he  put  it  aside  as  a thing  too  delicate  and  sacred 
to  be  enumerated  with  earthly  studies.?  or  did  he  dis- 
tinctly contemplate  it  when  he  made  his  division?  Any- 
how, I could  really  find  a place  for  it  under  the  first 
head,  or  the  second,  or  the  third; — for  it  has  to  do 
with  facts,  since  it  tells  of  the  Self-subsisting ; it  has 
to  do  with  relations,  for  it  tells  of  the  Creator;  it 
has  to  do  with  signs,  for  it  tells  of  the  due  manner  of 
streaking  of  Him.  There  was  just  one  head  of  the 
Division  to  which  I could  not  refer  it,  viz.,  to  sentiment ; 
v/r,  I suppose,  music  and  poetry,  which  are  the  writer’s 
]^n  examples  of  sentiment,  have  not  much  to  do  with 
Truth,  which  is  the  main  object  of  Religion.  Judge  then 
fcy  surprise.  Gentlemen,  when  I found  the  fourth  was 
ihe  very  head  selected  by  the  writer  of  the  Report  in 
question,  as  the  special  receptacle  of  religious  topics. 
“ The  inculcation  of  sentiment','  he  says,  “ embraces  read- 
ing in  its  higher  sense,  poetry,  music,  together  with 
moral  and  religious  Education.”  I am  far  from  intro- 


32 


Discourse  IL 


ducing  this  writer  for  his  own  sake,  because  I have  no 
wish  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  a gentleman,  who  is  but 
exerting  himself  zealously  in  the  discharge  of  anxious 
duties  ; but,  taking  him  as  an  illustration  of  the  wide- 
spreading  school  of  thought  to  which  he  belongs,  I ask 
what  can  more  clearly  prove  than  a candid  avowal  like 
this,  that,  in  the  view  of  his  school.  Religion  is  not 
knowledge,  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  knowledge, 
and  is  excluded  from  a University  course  of  instruction, 
not  simply  because  the  exclusion  cannot  be  helped, 
from  political  or  social  obstacles,  but  because  it  has  no 
business  there  at  all,  because  it  is  to  be  considered 
a taste,  sentiment,  opinion,  and  nothing  more  ? 

The  writer  avows  this  conclusion  himself,  in  the  ex- 
planation into  which  he  presently  enters,  in  which  he 
says  : According  to  the  classification  proposed,  the 

essential  idea  of  all  religious  Education  will  consist  in  the 
direct  cultivation  of  the  feelings'^  What  we  contemplate, 
then,  what  we  aim  at,  when  we  give  a religious  Educa- 
tion, is,  it  seems,  not  to  impart  any  knowledge  whatever, 
but  to  satisfy  anyhow  desires  after  the  Unseen  which 
will  arise  in  our  minds  in  spite  of  ourselves,  to  provide  the 
mind  with  a means  of  self-command,  to  impress  on  it  the 
beautiful  ideas  which  saints  and  sages  have  struck  out,  ^ 
embellish  it  with  the  bright  hues  of  a celestial  piety, 
teach  it  the  poetry  of  devotion,  the  music  of  well-order® 
affections,  and  the  luxury  of  doing  good.  As  for  the  i« 
tellect,  its  exercise  happens  to  be  unavoidable,  whenev* 
moral  impressions  are  made,  from  the  constitution  of  th  J 
human  mind,  but  it  varies  in  the  results  of  that  exercisJ] 
in  the  conclusions  which  it  draws  from  our  impression^ 
according  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  individual  m 

Something  like  this  seems  to  be  the  writer’s  meaw: 
ing,  but  we  need  not  pry  into  its  finer  issues  in  order  tij 


Theology  a Branch  of  K7iowledge.  33 

gain  a distinct  view  of  its  general  bearing ; and  taking 
it,  as  I think  we  fairly  may  take  it,  as  a specimen  of  the 
philosophy  of  the  day,  as  adopted  by  those  who  are  not 
conscious  unbelievers,  or  open  scoffers,  I consider  it 
amply  explains  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  this  day’s  phi- 
losophy sets  up  a system  of  universal  knowledge,  and 
teaches  of  plants,  and  earths,  and  creeping  things,  and 
beasts,  and  gases,  about  the  crust  of  the  earth  and  the 
changes  of  the  atmosphere,  about  sun,  moon,  and  stars, 
about  man  and  his  doings,  about  the  history  of  the  world, 
about  sensation,  memory,  and  the  passions,  about  duty, 
about  cause  and  effect,  about  all  things  imaginable, 
except  one — and  that  is,  about  Him  that  made  all  these 
things,  about  God.  I say  the  reason  is  plain  because 
they  consider  knowledge,  as  regards  the  creature,  is 
illimitable,  but  impossible  or  hopeless  as  regards  the 
being  and  attributes  and  works  of  the  Creator. 

6. 

Here,  however,  it  may  be  objected  to  me  that  this  re- 
presentation is  certainly  extreme,  for  the  school  in  ques- 

In  does,  in  fact,  lay  great  stress  on  the  evidence  afforded 
the  creation,  to  the  Being  and  Attributes  of  the 
eator.  I may  be  referred,  for  instance,  to  the  words  of 
e of  the  speakers  on  a memorable  occasion.  At  the 
ry  time  of  laying  the  first  stone  of  the  University  of 
>ndon,  I confess  it,  a learned  person,  since  elevated  to 
j Protestant  See  of  Durham,  which  he  still  fills,  opened 
5 proceedings  with  prayer.  He  addressed  the  Deity,  as 
; authoritative  Report  informs  us,  “the  whole  sur- 
jnding  assembly  standing  uncovered  in  solemn  silence.” 
“ Thou,”  he  said,  in  the  name  of  all  present,  “ thou  hast 
constructed  the  vast  fabric  of  the  universe  in  so  wonder- 
ful a manner,  so  arranged  its  motions,  and  so  formed  its 

3 


34 


Discourse  II. 


productions,  that  the  contemplation  and  study  of  thy 
works  exercise  at  once  the  mind  in  the  pursuit  of  human 
science,  and  lead  it  onwards  to  Divine  Truth!  Here  is 
apparently  a distinct  recognition  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  Truth  in  the  province  of  Religion  ; and,  did  the 
passage  stand  by  itself,  and  were  it  the  only  means  we 
possessed  of  ascertaining  the  sentiments  of  the  powerful 
body  whom  this  distinguished  person  there  represented, 
it  would,  as  far  as  it  goes,  be  satisfactory.  I admit  it ; 
and  I admit  also  the  recognition  of  the  Being  and  cer- 
tain Attributes  of  the  Deity,  contained  in  the  writings  of 
the  gifted  person  whom  I have  already  quoted,  whose  - 
genius,  versatile  and  multiform  as  it  is,  in  nothing  has 
been  so  constant,  as  in  its  devotion  to  the  advancement  ^ 
of  knowledge,  scientific  and  literary.  He  then  certainly, 
in  his  Discourse  of  the  objects,  advantages,  and  plea- 
sures of  science,''  after  variously  illustrating  what  he 
terms  its  gratifying  treats,"  crowns  the  catalogue  v^lth 
mention  of  ‘‘  the  highest  of  all  our  gratifications  in  *he 
contemplation  of  science,"  which  he  proceeds  to  exp  Ain 
thus : ■ 

''  We  are  raised  by  them,"  says  he,  “to  an  understand' 
ing  of  the  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  which  the  CreatM  \ 
his  displayed  in  all  His  works.  Not  a step  can  be  take!  V 
in  any  direction,"  he  continues,  “without  perceiving  thB ^ 
most  extraordinary  traces  of  design  ; and  the  skill,  everjd  y 
where  conspicuous,  is  calculated  in  so  vast  a proportioiM 
of  instances  to  promote  the  happiness  of  living  creatures*- 
and  especially  of  ourselves,  that  we  can  feel  no  hesitation* 
in  concluding,  that,  if  we  knew  the  whole  scheme  of  I] 
Providence,  every  part  would  be  in  harmony  with  a plan  11 
of  absolute  benevolence.  Independent,  however,  of  this 
most  consoling  inference,  the  delight  is  inexpressible,  of 
being  able  to  follow,  as  it  were,  with  our  eyes,  the  mar- 


35 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge. 

vellous  works  of  the  Great  Architect  of  Nature,  to  trace 
the  unbounded  power  and  exquisite  skill  which  are 
exhibited  in  the  most  minute,  as  well  as  the  mightiest 
parts  of  His  system.  The  pleasure  derived  from  this 
study  is  unceasing,  and  so  various,  that  it  never  tires  the 
appetite.  But  it  is  unlike  the  low  gratifications  of  sense 
in  another  respect : it  elevates  and  refines  our  nature, 
while  those  hurt  the  health,  debase  the  understanding, 
and  corrupt  the  feelings  ; it  teaches  us  to  look  upon  all 
earthly  objects  as  insignificant  and  below  our  notice, 
except  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  and  the  cultivation  of 
virtue,  that  is  to  say,  the  strict  performance  of  our  duty 
in  every  relation  of  society  ; and  it  gives  a dignity  and 
importance  to  the  enjoyment  of  life,  which  the  frivolous 
and  the  grovelling  cannot  even  comprehend.” 

Such  are  the  words  of  this  prominent  champion  of 
Mixed  Education.  If  logical  inference  be,  as  it  un- 
doubtedly is,  an  instrument  of  truth,  surely,  it  may  be 
answered  to  me,  in  admitting  the  possibility  of  inferring 
the  Divine  Being  and  Attributes  from  the  phenomena 
of  nature,  he  distinctly  admits  a basis  of  truth  for  the 
doctrines  of  Religion. 

7- 

j I wish.  Gentlemen,  to  give  these  representations  their 
fall  weight,  both  from  the  gravity  of  the  question,  and 
the  consideration  due  to  the  persons  whom  I am  arraign- 
ing ; but,  before  I can  feel  sure  I understand  them,  I 
knust  ask  an  abrupt  question.  When  I am  told,  then,  by 
the  partisans  of  Universities  without  Theological  teaching, 
ijthat  human  science  leads  to  belief  in  a Supreme  Being, 

! without  denying  the  fact,  nay,  as  a Catholic,  with  full 
! conviction  of  it,  nevertheless  I am  obliged  to  ask  what 
jthe  statement  means  in  their  mouths,  what  they,  the 


36 


Discourse  IT. 


speakers,  understand  by  the  word  God/’  Let  me  not 
be  thought  offensive,  if  I question,  whether  it  means  the 
same  thing  on  the  two  sides  of  the  controversy.  With 
us  Catholics,  as  with  the  first  race  of  Protestants,  as  with 
Mahometans,  and  all  Theists,  the  word  contains,  as  I 
have  already  said,  a theology  in  itself.  At  the  risk  of 
anticipating  what  I shall  have  occasion  to  insist  upon  in 
my  next  Discourse,  let  me  say  that,  according  to  the 
teaching  of  Monotheism,  God  is  an  Individual,  Self- 
dependent,  All-perfect,  Unchangeable  Being  ; intelligent, 
living,  personal,  and  present ; almighty,  all-seeing,  all- 
remembering; between  whom  and  His  creatures  there  is 
an  infinite  gulf ; who  has  no  origin,  who  is  all-sufficiem 
for  Himself ; who  created  and  upholds  the  universe  ; who' 
will  judge  every  one  of  us,  sooner  or  later,  according  to 
that  Law  of  right  and  wrong  which  He  has  written  on 
our  hearts.  He  is  One  who  is  sovereign  over,  operative 
amidst,  independent  of,  the  appointments  which  He  has 
made;  One  in  whose  hands  are  all  things,  who  has  a pur- 
pose in  every  event,  and  a standard  for  every  deed,  and 
thus  has  relations  of  His  own  towards  the  subject-matter 
of  each  particular  science  which  the  book  of  knowledgce 
unfolds  ; who  has  with  an  adorable,  never-ceasing  energy 
implicated  Himself  in  all  the  history  of  creation,  ihdt 
constitution  of  nature,  the  course  of  the  world,  the 
origin  of  society,  the  fortunes  of  nations,  the  action  of  th® 
human  mind  ; and  who  thereby  necessarily  becomes  the| 
subject-matter  of  a science,  far  wider  and  more  noble  than  t 
any  of  those  which  are  included  in  the  circle  of  secular  i 
Education.  t 

This  is  the  doctrine  which  belief  in  a God  implies  in  j: 
the  mind  of  a Catholic  : if  it  means  any  thing,  it  means 
all  this,  and  cannot  keep  from  meaning  all  this,  and  a \ 
great  deal  more  ; and,  even  though  there  were  nothing  \ 


37 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knoivledge, 

In  the  religious  tenets  of  the  last  three  centuries  to  dis- 
parage dogmatic  truth,  still,  even  then,  I should  have 
difficulty  in  believing  that  a doctrine  so  mysterious,  so 
peremptory,  approved  itself  as  a matter  of  course  to 
educated  men  of  this  day,  who  gave  their  minds  atten- 
tively to  consider  it.  Rather,  in  a state  of  society  such 
as  ours,  in  which  authority,  prescription,  tradition,  habit, 
moral  instinct,  and  the  divine  influences  go  for  nothing, 
in  which  patience  of  thought,  and  depth  and  consistency 
of  view,  are  scorned  as  subtle  and  scholastic,  in  which 
free  discussion  and  fallible  judgment  are  prized  as  the 
birthright  of  each  individual,  I must  be  excused  if  I 
exercise  towards  this  age,  as  regards  its  belief  in  this 
doctrine,  some  portion  of  that  scepticism  which  it 
exercises  itself  towards  every  received  but  unscrutinized 
assertion  whatever.  I cannot  take  it  for  granted,  I must 
have  it  brought  home  to  me  by  tangible  evidence,  that 
the  spirit  of  the  age  means  by  the  Supreme  Being  what 
Catholics  mean.  Nay,  it  would  be  a relief  to  my  mind 
to  gain  some  ground  of  assurance,  that  the  parties  in- 
fluenced by  that  spirit  had,  I will  not  say,  a true  apprehen- 
sion of  God,  but  even  so  much  as  the  idea  of  what  a true 
apprehension  is. 

4 Nothing  is  easier  than  to  use  the  word,  and  mean  no- 
ting by  it.  The  heathens  used  to  say,  ''  God  wills,'* 
Irhen  they  meant  ‘‘  Fate  ‘‘  God  provides,"  when  they 
heant  “ Chance  God  acts,"  when  they  meant  In- 
/^tinct"  or  Sense and  God  is  every  where,"  when 
they  meant  the  Soul  of  Nature."  The  Almighty  is 
Something  infinitely  different  from  a principle,  or  a 
centre  of  action,  or  a quality,  or  a generalization  of 
f|)henomena.  If,  then,  by  the  word,  you  do  but  mean  a 
’Being  who  keeps  the  world  in  order,  who  acts  in  it,  but 
only  in  the  way  of  general  Providence,  who  acts  towards 


38 


Discourse  IL 


us  but  only  through  what  are  called  laws  of  Nature, 
who  is  more  certain  not  to  act  at  all  than  to  act  independ- 
ent of  those  laws,  who  is  known  and  approached  indeed, 
but  only  through  the  medium  of  those  laws  ; such  a God 
it  is  not  difficult  for  any  one  to  conceive,  not  difficult  for 
any  one  to  endure.  If,  I say,  as  you  would  revolu- 
tionize society,  so  you  would  revolutionize  heaven,  if  you 
have  changed  the  divine  sovereignty  into  a sort  of  con- 
stitutional monarchy,  in  which  the  Throne  has  honour 
and  ceremonial  enough,  but  cannot  issue  the  most 
ordinary  command  except  through  legal  forms  and 
precedents,  and  with  the  counter-signature  of  a minister, 
then  belief  in  a God  is  no  more  than  an  acknowledgment 
of  existing,  sensible  powers  and  phenomena,  which  none 
but  an  idiot  can  deny.  If  the  Supreme  Being  is  power- 
ful or  skilful,  just  so  far  forth  as  the  telescope  shows 
power,  and  the  microscope  shows  skill,  if  His  moral  law 
is  to  be  ascertained  simply  by  the  physical  processes  of 
the  animal  frame,  or  His  will  gathered  from  the  im- 
mediate issues  of  human  affairs,  if  His  Essence  is  just  as 
high  and  deep  and  broad  and  long  as  the  universe, 
and  no  more  ; if  this  be  the  fact,  then  will  I conf^spss ' 
that  there  is  no  specific  science  about  God,  that  theo- 
logy is  but  a name,  and  a protest  in  its  behalf  f < 
hypocrisy.  Then  is  He  but  coincident  with  the  laws  ! 
the  universe  ; then  is  He  but  a function,  or  correlatiVj  j 
or  subjective  reflection  and  mental  impression,  of  eaq  ^ 
phenomenon  of  the  material  or  moral  world,  as  it  flit 
before  us.  Then,  pious  as  it  is  to  think  of  Him,  whill 
the  pageant  of  experiment  or  abstract  reasoning  passes 
by,  still,  such  piety  is  nothing  more  than  a poetry  (pf 
thought  or  an  Ornament  of  language,  and  has  not  evejn 
an  infinitesimal  influence  upon  philosophy  or  science,  oS 
which  it  is  rather  the  parasitical  production. 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge.  39 

I understand,  in  that  case,  why  Theology  should  require 
no  specific  teaching,  for  there  is  nothing  to  mistake 
about ; why  it  is  powerless  against  scientific  anticipations, 
for  it  merely  is  one  of  them  ; why  it  is  simply  absurd  in 
its  denunciations  of  heresy,  for  heresy  does  not  lie  in  the 
region  of  fact  and  experiment.  I understand,  in  that 
case,  how  it  is  that  the  religious  sense  is  but  a “ senti- 
ment,'' and  its  exercise  a gratifying  treat,"  for  it  is  like 
the  sense  of  the  beautiful  or  the  sublime.  I understand 
how  the  contemplation  of  the  universe  leads  onwards  to 
divine  truth,"  for  divine  truth  is  not  something  separate 
from  Nature,  but  it  is  Nature  with  a divine  glow  upon 
it  I understand  the  zeal  expressed  for  Physical  Theo- 
logy,  for  this  study  is  but  a mode  of  looking  at  Physical 
Nature,  a certain  view  taken  of  Nature,  private  and 
personal,  which  one  man  has,  and  another  has  not,  which 
gifted  minds  strike  out,  which  others  see  to  be  admirable 
and  ingenious,  and  which  all  would  be  the  better  for 
adopting.  It  is  but  the  theology  of  Nature,  just  as  we 
talk  of  the  philosophy  or  the  romance  of  history,  or  the 
poetry  of  childhood,  or  the  picturesque,  or  the  sentimen- 
tal, or  the  humorous,  or  any  other  abstract  quality,  which 
the  genius  or  the  caprice  of  the  individual,  or  the  fashion 

If  the  day,  or  the  consent  of  the  world,  recognizes  in 
ny  set  of  objects  which  are  subjected  to  its  contem- 
lation. 

Such  ideas  of  religion  seem  to  me  short  of  Monotheism  ; 
I do  not  impute  them  to  this  or  that  individual  who  be- 
longs to  the  school  which  gives  them  currency ; but  what 
I read  about  the  ‘‘gratification  " of  keeping  pace  in  our 
scientific  researches  with  “the  Architect  of  Nature;" 
^ about  the  said  gratification  “ giving  a dignity  and  import- 
ance to  the  enjoyment  of  life,"  and  teaching  us  that 


40 


Discoiif'se  IL 


knowledge  and  our  duties  to  society  are  the  only  earthly 
objects  worth  our  notice,  all  this,  I own  it,  Gentlemen, 
frightens  me ; nor  is  Dr.  Maltby’s  address  to  the  Deity 
sufficient  to  reassure  me.  1 do  not  see  much  difference 
between  avowing  that  there  is  no  God,  and  implying  that 
nothing  definite  can  for  certain  be  known  about  Him  ; 
and  when  I find  Religious  Education  treated  as  the  cul- 
tivation of  sentiment,  and  Religious  Belief  as  the  acci- 
dental hue  or  posture  of  the  mind,  I am  reluctantly  but 
forcibly  reminded  of  a very  unpleasant  page  of  Meta- 
physics, viz.,  of  the  relations  between  God  and  Nature 
insinuated  by  such  philosophers  as  Hume.  This  acute, 
though  most  low-minded  of  speculators,  in  his  inquiry 
concerning  the  Human  Understanding,  introduces,  as  is 
well  known,  Epicurus,  that  is,  a teacher  of  atheism,  de- 
livering an  harangue  to  the  Athenian  people,  not  indeed 
in  defence,  but  in  extenuation  of  that  opinion.  His  ob- 
ject is  to  show  that,  whereas  the  atheistic  view  is  nothing 
else  than  the  repudiation  of  theory,  and  an  accurate 
representation  of  phenomenon  and  fact,  it  cannot  be 
dangerous,  unless  phenomenon  and  fact  be  dangerous. 
Epicurus  is  made  to  say,  that  the  paralogism  of  philV)- 
sophy  has  ever  been  that  of  arguing  from  Nature  i\n 
behalf  of  something  beyond  Nature,  greater  than  Nature, 
whereas,  God,  as  he  maintains,  being  known  onl^  v 
through  the  visible  world,  our  knowledge  of  Him  is  ab|  ^ 
solutely  commensurate  with  our  knowledge  of  it, — iJ 
nothing  distinct  from  it, — is  but  a mode  of  viewing  iti; 
Hence  it  follows  that,  provided  we  admit,  as  we  cannot| 
help  admitting,  the  phenomena  of  Nature  and  the  world, 
it  is  only  a question  of  words  whether  or  not  we  go  onS^ 
to  the  hypothesis  of  a second  Being,  not  visible  but  im-^, 
material,  parallel  and  coincident  with  Nature,  to  whorn'^ 
we  give  the  name  of  God.  Allowing,^^  he  says,  the 


Theology  a Branch  of  Knowledge, 


41 


gods  to  be  the  authors  of  the  existence  or  order  of  the 
universe,  it  follows  that  they  possess  that  precise  degree 
of  power,  intelligence,  and  benevolence,  which  appears 
in  their  workmanship  ; but  nothing  farther  can  be  proved, 
except  we  call  in  the  assistance  of  exaggeration  and 
flattery  to  supply  the  defects  of  argument  and  reasoning. 
So  far  as  the  traces  of  any  attributes,  at  present,  appear, 
so  far  may  we  conclude  these  attributes  to  exist.  The 
supposition  of  farther  attributes  is  mere  hypothesis ; 
much  more  the  supposition  that,  in  distant  periods  of 
place  and  time,  there  has  been,  or  will  be,  a more  magni- 
ficent display  of  these  attributes,  and  a scheme  of  admin- 
istration more  suitable  to  such  imaginary  virtues.'^ 

Here  is  a reasoner,  who  would  not  hesitate  to  deny 
that  there  is  any  distinct  science  or  philosophy  possible 
concerning  the  Supreme  Being  ; since  every  single  tiling 
we  know  of  Him  is  this  or  that  or  the  other  phenomenon, 
material  or  moral,  which  already  falls  under  this  or  that 
natural  science.  In  him  then  it  would  be  only  consistent 
to  drop  Theology  in  a course  of  University  Education  : 
butJiow  is  it  consistent  in  any  one  who  shrinks  from  his 
C(^panionship } I am  glad  to  see  that  the  author, 
s'lperal  times  mentioned,  is  in  opposition  to  Hume,  in 
ole  sentence  of  the  quotation  I have  made  from  his 
liscourse  upon  Science,  deciding,  as  he  does,  that  the 
phenomena  of  the  material  world  are  insufficient  for  the 
full  exhibition  of  the  Divine  Attributes,  and  implying 

ihat  they  require  a supplemental  process  to  complete 
nd  harmonize  their  evidence.  But  is  not  this  supple- 
lental  process  a science  ? and  if  so,  why  not  acknow- 
^dge  its  existence  ? If  God  is  more  than  Nature, 
heology  claims  a place  among  the  sciences  : but,  on  the 
ther  hand,  if  you  are  not  sure  of  as  much  as  this,  how 
do  you  differ  from  Hume  or  Epicurus  ? 


42 


Discourse  II 


9‘ 

I end  then  as  I began  : religious  doctrine  is  knowledge. 
This  is  the  important  truth,  little  entered  into  at  this  day, 
which  I wish  that  all  who  have  honoured  me  with  their 
presence  here  would  allow  me  to  beg  them  to  take  away 
with  them.  I am  not  catching  at  sharp  arguments,  but 
laying  down  grave  principles.  Religious  doctrine  is 
knowledge,  in  as  full  a sense  as  Newton’s  doctrine  is 
knowledge.  University  Teaching  without  Theology  is 
simply  unphilosophical.  Theology  has  at  least  as  good 
a right  to  claim  a place  there  as  Astronomy. 

In  my  next  Discourse  it  will  be  my  object  to  show 
that  its  omission  from  the  list  of  recognised  sciences  is 
not  only  indefensible  in  itself,  but  prejudicial  to  all  the 


43 


DISCOURSE  III. 

BEARING  OF  THEOLOGY  ON  OTHER  BRANCHES  OF 
KNOWLEDGE. 


I. 

WHEN  men  of  great  intellect,  who  have  long  and 
intently  and  exclusively  given  themselves  to  the 
study  or  investigation  of  some  one  particular  branch  of 
secular  knowledge,  whose  mental  life  is  concentrated  and 
hidden  in  their  chosen  pursuit,  and  who  have  neither 
eyes  nor  ears  for  any  thing  which  does  not  immediately 
bear  upon  it,  when  such  men  are  at  length  made  to  realize 
Hiat  there  is  a clamour  all  around  them,  which  must  be 
^Rrd,  for  what  they  have  been  so  little  accustomed  to 
^pce  in  the  category  of  knowledge  as  Religion,  and  that 
Rey  themselves  are  accused  of  disaffection  to  it,  they  are 
Knpatient  at  the  interruption  ; they  call  the  demand 
Ftyrannical,  and  the  requisitionists  bigots  or  fanatics. 
[They  are  tempted  to  say,  that  their  only  wish  is  to  be 
let  alone;  for  themselves,  they  are  not  dreaming  of  offend- 
ing any  one,  or  interfering  with  any  one  ; they  are  pur- 
suing their  own  particular  line,  they  have  never  spoken  a 
word  against  any  one's  religion,  whoever  he  may  be, 
and  never  mean  to  do  so.  It  does  not  follow  that  they 
deny  the  existence  of  a God,  because  they  are  not  found 
talking  of  it,  when  the  topic  would  be  utterly  irrelevant. 


44 


Discourse  III, 


All  they  say  is,  that  there  are  other  beings  in  the  world 
besides  the  Supreme  Being ; their  business  is  with  them. 
After  all,  the  creation  is  not  the  Creator,  nor  things 
secular  religious.  Theology  and  human  science  are  two 
things,  not  one,  and  have  their  respective  provinces, 
contiguous  it  may  be  and  cognate  to  each  other,  but  not 
identical.  When  we  are  contemplating  earth,  we  are  not 
contemplating  heaven  ; and  when  we  are  contemplating 
heaven,  we  are  not  contemplating  earth.  Separate  sub- 
jects should  be  treated  separately.  As  division  of  labour, 
so  division  of  thought  is  the  only  means  of  successful 
application.  Let  us  go  our  own  way,”  they  say,  and 
you  go  yours.  We  do  not  pretend  to  lecture  on  Theology, 
and  you  have  no  claim  to  pronounce  upon  Science.” 

With  this  feeling  they  attempt  a sort  of  compromise, 
between  their  opponents  who  claim  for  Theology  a free 
introduction  into  the  Schools  of  Science,  and  themselves 
who  would  exclude  it  altogether,  and  it  is  this : viz.,  that 
it  should  remain  indeed  excluded  from  the  public  ^ 
schools,  but  that  it  should  be  permitted  in  private., 
wherever  a sufficient  number  of  persons  is  found 
desire  it.  Such  persons,  they  seem  to  say,  may  havJ^[^ 
all  their  own  way,  when  they  are  by  themselves,  so  tf  y - 
they  do  not  attempt  to  disturb  a comprehensive  systef 
of  instruction,  acceptable  and  useful  to  all,  by  the  if 
trusion  of  opinions  peculiar  to  their  own  minds.  | 

I am  now  going  to  attempt  a philosophical  answer  tc 
this  representation,  that  is,  to  the  project  of  teaching^  ^ 
secular  knowledge  in  the  University  Lecture  Room,  and  ^ 
remanding  religious  knowledge  to  the  parish  priest,  thel" 
catechism,  and  the  parlour ; and  in  doing  so,  you  must 
pardon  me.  Gentlemen,  if  my  subject  should  oblige  me| 
to  pursue  a lengthy  and  careful  course  of  thought,  which  4 
may  be  wearisome  to  the  hearer  : — I begin  then  thus  : — 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge.  45 


Truth  is  the  object  of  Knowledge  of  whatever  kind  ; 
and  when  we  inquire  what  is  meant  by  Truth,  I suppose 
it  is  right  to  answer  that  Truth  means  facts  and  their 
relations,  which  stand  towards  each  other  pretty  much 
as  subjects  and  predicates  in  logic.  All  that  exists,  as 
contemplated  by  the  human  mind,  forms  one  large 
system  or  complex  fact,  and  this  of  course  resolves  itself 
into  an  indefinite  number  of  particular  facts,  which,  as 
being  portions  of  a whole,  have  countless  relations  of 
every  kind,  one  towards  another.  Knowledge  is  the 
apprehension  of  these  facts,  whether  in  themselves,  or  in 
their  mutual  positions  and  bearings.  And,  as  all  taken 
together  form  one  integral  subject  for  contemplation,  so 
there  are  no  natural  or  real  limits  between  part  and 
part  ; one  is  ever  running  into  another  ; all,  as  viewed 
by  the  mind,  are  combined  together,  and  possess  a 
correlative  character  one  with  another,  from  the  internal 
mysteries  of  the  Divine  Essence  down  to  our  own  sen- 
sations and  consciousness,  from  the  most  solemn  appoint- 
ment's of  the  Lord  of  all  down  to  what  may  be  called  the 
accic^ent  of  the  hour,  from  the  most  glorious  seraph  down 
to  tlhe  vilest  and  most  noxious  of  reptiles. 

Mow,  it  is  not  wonderful  that,  with  all  its  capabilities, 
thef  human  mind  cannot  take  in  this  whole  vast  fact  at  a 
sia^le  glance,  or  gain  possession  of  it  at  once.  Like  a 
sh(J  )rt-sighted  reader,  its  eye  pores  closely,  and  travels 
slo’  wly,  over  the  awful  volume  which  lies  open  for  its  in- 
sprection.  Or  again,  as  we  deal  with  some  huge  structure 
i{  ( many  parts  and  sides,  the  mind  goes  round  about  it, 
^ )ting  down,  first  one  thing,  then  another,  as  it  best  may, 

1 ad  viewing  it  under  different  aspects,  by  way  of  making 
(jrogress  towards  mastering  the  whole.  So  by  degrees 


46 


Discourse  III. 


and  by  circuitous  advances  does  it  rise  aloft  and  subject 
to  itself  a knowledge  of  that  universe  into  which  it  has 
been  born. 

These  various  partial  views  or  abstractions,  by  means 
of  which  the  mind  looks  out  upon  its  object,  are  called 
sciences,  and  embrace  respectively  larger  or  smaller  por- 
tions of  the  field  of  knowledge ; sometimes  extending  far 
and  wide,  but  superficially,  sometimes  with  exactness 
over  particular  departments,  sometimes  occupied  together 
on  one  and  the  same  portion,  sometimes  holding  one  part 
in  common,  and  then  ranging  on  this  side  or  that  in  abso- 
lute divergence  one  from  the  other.  Thus  Optics  has  for 
its  subject  the  whole  visible  creation,  so  far  forth  as  it  is 
simply  visible ; Mental  Philosophy  has  a narrower  pro- 
vince, but  a richer  one.  Astronomy,  plane  and  physical, 
each  has  the  same  subject-matter,  but  views  it  or  treats 
it  differently;  lastly.  Geology  and  Comparative  Anatomy 
have  subject-matters  partly  the  same,  partly  distinct. 
Now  these  views  or  sciences,  as  being  abstractions,  have, 
far  more  to  do  with  the  relations  of  things  than  with 
things  themselves.  They  tell  us  what  things  are,  only  or  ' 
principally  by  telling  us  their  relations,  or  assigning  ^pre-  I 
dicates  to  subjects ; and  therefore  they  never  tell  u^;  all 
that  can  be  said  about  a thing,  even  when  they  tell  some-  ' 
thing,  nor  do  they  bring  it  before  us,  as  the  senses  Uo. 
They  arrange  and  classify  facts ; they  reduce  separate 
phenomena  under  a common  law ; they  trace  effects  to'  a 
cause.  Thus  they  serve  to  transfer  our  knowledge  froi  na 
the  custody  of  memory  to  the  surer  and  more  abidir’lg 
protection  of  philosophy,  thereby  providing  both  for  ids 
spread  and  its  advance : — for,  inasmuch  as  sciences  ar  e 
forms  of  knowledge,  they  enable  the  intellect  to  maste/1 
and  increase  it ; and,  inasmuch  as  they  are  instruments 
to  communicate  it  readily  to  others.  Still,  after  all,  they  ^ 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge,  47 

proceed  on  the  principle  of  a division  of  labour,  even 
though  that  division  is  an  abstraction,  not  a literal 
separation  into  parts ; and,  as  the  maker  of  a bridle  or 
an  epaulet  has  not,  on  that  account,  any  idea  of  the 
science  of  tactics  or  strategy,  so  in  a parallel  way,  it  is 
not  every  science  which  equally,  nor  any  one  which  fully, 
enlightens  the  mind  in  the  knowledge  of  things,  as  they 
are,  or  brings  home  to  it  the  external  object  on  which  it 
wishes  to  gaze.  Thus  they  differ  in  importance ; and 
according  to  their  importance  will  be  their  influence, 
not  only  on  the  mass  of  knowledge  to  which  they  all 
converge  and  contribute,  but  on  each  other. 

Since  then  sciences  are  the  results  of  mental  processes 
about  one  and  the  same  subject-matter,  viewed  under  its 
various  aspects,  and  are  true  results,  as  far  as  they  go, 
yet  at  the  same  time  separate  and  partial,  it  follows  that 
on  the  one  hand  they  need  external  assistance,  one  by 
one,  by  reason  of  their  incompleteness,  and  on  the  other 
that  they  are  able  to  afford  it  to  each  other,  by  reason, 
first,  of  their  independence  in  themselves,  and  then  of 
their  connexion  in  their  subject-matter.  Viewed  alto- 
gethfer,  they  approximate  to  a representation  or  sub- 
jective reflection  of  the  objective  truth,  as  nearly  as  is 
pos/sible  to  the  human  mind,  which  advances  towards  the 
acaurate  apprehension  of  that  object,  in  proportion  to 
thep  number  of  sciences  which  it  has  mastered ; and 
wKiich,  when  certain  sciences  are  away,  in  such  a case  has 
bM  a defective  apprehension,  in  proportion  to  the  value 
of  I the  sciences  which  are  thus  wanting,  and  the  import- 
arjice  of  the  field  on  which  they  are  employed. 


Let  us  take,  for  instance,  man  himself  as  our  object  of 
contemplation  ; then  at  once  we  shall  find  we  can  view 


48 


Discourse  III. 


him  in  a variety  »>f  relations  ; and  according  to  those 
relationsare  thesciences  of  which  he  is  the  subject-matter, 
and  according  to  our  acquaintance  with  them  is  our  pos- 
session of  a true  knowledge  of  him.  We  may  view  him 
in  relation  to  the  material  elements  of  his  body,  or  to  his 
mental  constitution,  or  to  his  household  and  family,  or 
to  the  community  in  which  he  lives,  or  to  the  Being  who 
made  him ; and  in  consequence  we  treat  of  him  respec- 
tively as  physiologists,  or  as  moral  philosophers,  or  as 
writers  of  economics,  or  of  politics,  or  as  theologians. 
When  we  think  of  him  in  all  these  relations  together,  or 
as  the  subject  at  once  of  all  the  sciences  I have  named, 
then  we  may  be  said  to  reach  unto  and  rest  in  the  idea 
of  man  as  an  object  or  external  fact,  similar  to  that  which 
the  eye  takes  of  his  outward  form.  On  the  other  hand, 
according  as  we  are  only  physiologists,  or  only  politicians, 
or  only  moralists,  so  is  our  idea  of  man  more  or  less 
unreal ; we  do  not  take  in  the  whole  of  him,  and  the 
defect  is  greater  or  less,  in  proportion  as  the  relation  is, 
or  is  not,  important,  which  is  omitted,  whether  his  relation 
to  God,  or  to  his  king,  or  to  his  children,  or  to  his  own 
component  parts.  And  if  there  be  one  relation,  al^^out  , 
which  we  know  nothing  at  all  except  that  it  exists,  then  , 
is  our  knowledge  of  him,  confessedly  and  to  our  oWn  ! 
consciousness,  deficient  and  partial,  and  that,  I repejat, 
in  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  relation. 

That  therefore  is  true  of  sciences  in  general  which  w al 
are  apt  to  think  applies  only  to  pure  mathematics,  thoug  ml 
to  pure  mathematics  it  applies  especially,  viz.,  that  thc^lg 
cannot  be  considered  as  simple  representations  or  iiis 
formants  of  things  as  they  are.  We  are  accustomed  t|  e 
say,  and  say  truly,  that  the  conclusions  of  pure  math^y 
matics  are  applied,  corrected,  and  adapted,  by  mixed'',' 
but  so  too  the  conclusions  of  Anatomy,  Chemistry,\ 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge > 49 


Dynamics,  and  other  sciences,  are  revised  and  completed 
by  each  other.  Those  several  conclusions  do  not  represent 
whole  and  substantive  things,  but  views,  true,  so  far 
as  they  go ; and  in  order  to  ascertain  how  far  they 
do  go,  that  is,  how  far  they  correspond  to  the  object 
to  which  they  belong,  we  must  compare  them  with  the 
views  taken  out  of  that  object  by  other  sciences.  Did 
we  proceed  upon  the  abstract  theory  of  forces,  we  should 
assign  a much  more  ample  range  to  a projectile  than  in 
fact  the  resistance  of  the  air  allows  it  to  accomplish. 
Let,  however,  that  resistance  be  made  the  subject  of 
scientific  analysis,  and  then  we  shall  have  a new 
science,  assisting,  and  to  a certain  point  completing,  for 
the  benefit  of  questions  of  fact,  the  science  of  projection. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  science  of  projection  itself,  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  forces  it  contemplates,  is 
not  more  perfect,  as  such,  by  this  supplementary  in- 
vestigation. And  in  like  manner,  as  regards  the  whole 
circle  of  sciences,  one  corrects  another  for  purpos'^*^ 
fact,  and  one  without  the  other  cannot  dogmatic 
hypothetically  and  upon  its  own  abs1^iA||»rinciples. 
instance,  the  Newtonian  philosophy  r^^res  the  admis- 
sion of  certain  metaphysical  postulates,  if  it  is  to  be  more 
than  a theory  or  an  hypothesis ; as,  for  instance,  that 
what  happened  yesterday  will  happen  to-morrow ; that 
there  is  such  a thing  as  matter,  that  our  senses  are  trust- 
worthy, that  there  is  a logic  of  induction,  and  so  on. 
Now  to  Newton  metaphysicians  grant  all  that  he  asks  ; 
but,  if  so  be,  they  may  not  prove  equally  accommodating 
to  another  who  asks  something  else,  and  then  all  his 
most  logical  conclusions  in  the  science  of  physics  would 
remain  hopelessly  on  the  stocks,  though  finished,  and 
never  could  be  launched  into  the  sphere  of  fact. 

Again,  did  I know  nothing  about  the  movement  of 

4 


50 


Discourse  III. 


bodies,  except  what  the  theory  of  gravitation  supplies, 
were  I simply  absorbed  in  that  theory  so  as  to  make 
it  measure  all  motion  on  earth  and  in  the  sky,  I should 
indeed  come  to  many  right  conclusions,  I should  hit  off 
many  important  facts,  ascertain  many  existing  relations, 
and  correct  many  popular  errors : I should  scout  and 
ridicule  with  great  success  the  old  notion,  that  light  bodies 
flew  up  and  heavy  bodies  fell  down  ; but  I should  go  on 
with  equal  confidence  to  deny  the  phenomenon  of  capi^ 
lary  attraction.  Here  I should  be  wrong,  but  only  be- 
cause I carried  out  my  science  irrespectively  of  other 
sciences.  In  like  manner,  did  I simply  give  myself  to 
the  investigation  of  the  external  action  of  body  upon 
body,  I might  scoff  at  the  very  idea  of  chemical  affinities 
and  combinations,  and  reject  it  as  simply  unintelligible. 
Were  I a mere  chemist,  I should  deny  the  influence  of 
mind  upon  bodily  health ; and  so  on,  as  regards  the 
devotees  of  any  science,  or  family  of  sciences,  to  the  ex- 
^^^u^n  of  others  ; they  necessarily  become  bigots  and 
^^^^H^^corning  all  principles  and  reported  facts  which 
^^^^i^^Deiongji^^ir  own  pursuit,  and  thinking  to  effect 
^^^erything  aid  from  any  other  quarter.  Thus, 

before  now,  chemistry  has  been  substituted  for  medicine  ; 
and  again,  political  economy,  or  intellectual  enlighten- 
ment, or  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  has  been  cried  up 
as  a panacea  against  vice,  malevolence,  and  misery. 


4- 

Siinrming  up,  Ge^lemen,  what  I have  said,  I lay  it 
dqwnt^t  all  knowledge  forms  one  whole,  because  its 
subject-matter  is  onej  for  the  universe  in  its  length^jod 
breadth  h so  intimately  knit  together,  that  we,  cannot 
separate  off  portTon  from  portion,  and  operation  Trom- 
operation,  except "^y  a mental  abstraction;  and  then 


Bearing  of  Theoiogy  07i  Other  Knoivledge.  5 1 

again,  as  to  its  Creator,  though  He  of  course  in  His  own 
Being  is  infinitely  separate  from  it,  and  Theology  has  its 
departments  towards  which  human  knowledge  has  no 
relations,  yet  He  has  so  implicated  Himself  with  it,  and 
taken  it  into  His  very  bosom,  by  His  presence  in  it.  His 
providence  over  it,  His  impressions  upon  it,  and  His 
influences  through  it,  that  we  cannot  truly  or  fully  con- 
template it  without  in  some  main  aspects  contemplating 
liim.  Next,  sciences  are  the  results  of  that  mental 
abstraction,  which  I have  spoken  of,  being  the  logical 
record  of  this  or  that  aspect  of  the  whole  subject-matter 
of  knowledge.  As  they  all  belong  to  one  and  the  same 
circle  of  objects,  they  are  one  and  all  connected  to- 
gether ; as  they  are  but  aspects  of  things,  they  are 
severally  incomplete  in  their  relation  to  the  things  them- 
selves, though  complete  in  their  own  idea  and  for  their 
own  respective  purposes  ; on  both  accounts  they  at  once 
need  and  subserve  each  other.  And  further,  the  com- 
prehension  of  the  bearings  of  one  science  on  anoJjier, 
andTKe^u^jQLL  each.,to  location  and  limi- 

(alion  and  adjustment  and  due  appreciation  of  them  all, 
one  with  another,  this  belongs,  I conceive  to  a sort  of 
saence  dist met  from  all  of  them,  and  in  some  sense  a ^ 
science  of  sciences,  which  is  my  ownj^on^ptjpn 
is  nie^t  by  PhilosopKy"  in  th^true  sense  of  the  word, 
ancTofa  philosophical  habit  of  mind,  and  which  in  these 
Discourses  I shall  call  by  that  name.  This  is  what  I 
have  to  say  about  knowledge  and  philosophical  know- 
ledge generally ; and  now  I proceed  to  apply  it  to  the 
particular  science,  which  has  led  me  to  draw  it  out. 

I say,  then,  that  the  systematic  omission  of  any  one 
science  from  the  catalogue  prejudices  the  accuracy  and 
completeness  of  our  knowledge  altogether,  and  that,  in 
proportion  to  its  importance.  Not  even  Theology  itself, 


U,  OF  ILL  UB, 


5^ 


Discourse  III, 


though  it  comes  from  heaven,  though  its  truths  were 
given  once  for  all  at  the  first,  though  they  are  more 
certain  on  account  of  the  Giver  than  those  of  mathe- 
matics, not  even  Theology,  so  far  as  it  is  relative  to  us, 
or  is  the  Science  of  Religion,  do  I exclude  from  the  law 
to  which  every  mental  exercise  is  subject,  viz.,  from  that 
imperfection,  which  ever  must  attend  the  abstract,  when 
it  would  determine  the  concrete.  Nor  do  I speak  only 
of  Natural  Religion  ; for  even  the  teaching  of  the  Catho- 
lic Church,  in  certain  of  its  aspects,  that  is,  its  religious 
teaching,  is  variously  influenced  by  the  other  sciences. 
Not  to  insist  on  the  introduction  of  the  Aristotelic  philo- 
sophy into  its  phraseology,  its  explanation  of  dogmas 
is  influenced  by  ecclesiastical  acts  or  events  ; its  inter- 
pretations of  prophecy  are  directly  affected  by  the  issues 
of  history ; its  comments  upon  Scripture  by  the  con- 
clusions of  the  astronomer  and  the  geologist ; and  its 
casuistical  decisions  by  the  various  experience,  political, 
social,  and  psychological,  with  which  times  and  places 
are  ever  supplying  it. 

What  Theology  gives,  it  has  a right  to  take ; or  rather, 
the  interests  of  Truth  oblige  it  to  take.  If  we  would  not 
be  beguiled  by  dreams,  if  we  would  ascertain  facts  as 
they  are,  then,  granting  Theology  is  a real  science,  we 
cannot  exclude  it,  and  still  call  ourselves  philosophers. 
I have  asserted  nothing  as  yet  as  to  the  pre-eminent 
dignity  of  Religious  Truth  ; I only  say,  if  there  be 
Religious  Truth  at  all,  we  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to  it 
without  prejudice  to  truth  of  every  kind,  physical,  meta- 
physical, historical,  and  moral ; for  it  bears  upon  all 
truth.  And  thus  I answer  the  objection  with  which  I 
opened  this  Discourse.  I supposed  the  question  put  to 
me  by  a philosopher  of  the  day,  “ Why  cannot  you  go 
your  way^  and  let  us  go  ours  T'  I answer,  in  the  name 


Bearuig  of  Theology  on  Othey  Knowledge,  53 

of  the  Science  of  Religion,  “When  Newton  can  dis- 
pense with  the  metaphysician,  then  may  you  dispense 
with  us.”  So  much  at  first  sight ; now  I am  going  on  to 
claim  a little  more  for  Theology,  by  classing  it  with 
branches  of  knowledge  which  may  with  greater  decency 
be  compared  to  it. 

5- 

Let  us  see,  then,  how  this  supercilious  treatment  of  so 
momentous  a science,  for  momentous  it  must  be,  if  there 
be  a God,  runs  in  a somewhat  parallel  case.  The  great 
philosopher  of  antiquity,  when  he  would  enumerate  the 
causes  of  the  things  that  take  place  in  the  world,  after 
making  mention  of  those  which  he  considered  to  be 
physical  and  material,  adds,  “ and  the  mind  and  every- 
thing which  is  by  means  of  man.”*  Certainly ; it  would 
have  been  a preposterous  course,  when  he  would  trace 
the  effects  he  saw  around  him  to  their  respective  sources, 
had  he  directed  his  exclusive  attention  upon  some  one 
class  or  order  of  originating  principles,  and  ascribed 
to  these  everything  which  happened  anywhere.  It 
would  indeed  have  been  unworthy  a genius  so  curious, 
so  penetrating,  so  fertile,  so  analytical  as  Aristotle’s,  to 
have  laid  it  down  that  everything  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  could  be  accounted  for  by  the  material  sciences, 
without  the  hypothesis  of  moral  agents.  It  is  incredible 
that  in  the  investigation  of  physical  results  he  could 
Ignore  so  influential  a being  as  man,  or  forget  that,  not 
only  brute  force  and  elemental  movement,  but  know- 
ledge also  is  power.  And  this  so  much  the  more,  inas- 
much as  moral  and  spiritual  agents  belong  to  another, 
not  to  say  a higher,  order  than  physical ; so  that  the 
omission  supposed  would  not  have  been  merely  an 

* Arist.  Ethic.  Nicom.,  iii.  3. 


54 


Discourse  III. 


oversight  in  matters  of  detail,  but  a philosophical  error, 
and  a fault  in  division. 

However,  we  live  in  an  age  of  the  world  when  the 
career  of  science  and  literature  is  little  affected  by  what 
was  done,  or  would  have  been  done,  by  this  venerable 
authority ; so,  we  will  suppose,  in  England  or  Ireland,  in 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  a set  of  persons  of 
name  and  celebrity  to  meet  together,  in  spite  of  Aristotle, 
in  order  to  adopt  a line  of  proceeding  which  they  conceive 
the  circumstances  of  the  time  render  imperative.  We  will 
suppose  that  a difficulty  just  now  besets  the  enunciation 
and  discussion  of  all  matters  of  science,  in  consequence 
of  the  extreme  sensitiveness  of  large  classes  of  the  com- 
munity, clergy  and  laymen,  on  the  subjects  of  necessity, 
responsibility,  the  standard  of  morals,  and  the  nature  of 
virtue.  Parties  run  so  high,  that  the  only  way  of  avoid- 
ing constant  quarrelling  in  defence  of  this  or  that  side  of 
the  question  is,  in  the  judgment  of  the  persons  I am  sup- 
posing, to  shut  up  the  subject  of  anthropology  altogether. 
This  is  accordingly  done.  Henceforth  man  is  to  be  as  if 
he  were  not,  in  the  general  course  of  Education  , the  moral 
and  mental  sciences  are  to  have  no  professorial  chairs, 
and  the  treatment  of  them  is  to  be  simply  left  as  a matter 
of  private  judgment,  which  each  individual  may  carry  out 
as  he  will.  I can  just  fancy  such  a prohibition  ab- 
stractedly possible  ; but  one  thing  I cannot  fancy  pos- 
sible, viz.,  that  the  partiqs  in  question,  after  this  sweeping 
act  of  exclusion,  should  forthwith  send  out  proposals  on 
the  basis  of  such  exclusion  for  publishing  an  Encyclo- 
paedia, or  erecting  a National  University. 

It  is  necessary,  however.  Gentlemen,  for  the  sake  of  the 
illustration  which  I am  setting  before  you,  to  imagine 
what  cannot  be.  I say,  let  us  imagine  a project  fodi 
organizing  a system  of  scientific  teaching,  in  which  theji 


Bearing  of  Theology  07i  Other  Knowledge,  55 

agency  of  man  in  the  material  world  cannot  allowably 
be  recognized,  and  may  allowably  be  denied.  Physical 
and  mechanical  causes  are  exclusively  to  be  treated  of ; 
volition  is  a forbidden  subject.  A prospectus  is  put  out, 
with  a list  of  sciences,  we  will  say.  Astronomy,  Optics, 
Hydrostatics,  Galvanism,  Pneumatics,  Statics,  Dynamics, 
Pure  Mathematics,  Geology,  Botany,  Physiology,  Ana- 
tomy, and  so  forth  ; but  not  a word  about  the  mind  and 
its  powers,  except  what  is  said  in  explanation  of  the 
omission.  That  explanation  is  to  the  effect  that  the 
parties  concerned  in  the  undertaking  have  given  long  and 
anxious  thought  to  the  subject,  and  have  been  reluctantly 
driven  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  simply  impracticable 
to  include  in  the  list  of  University  Lectures  the  Philo- 
sophy of  Mind.  What  relieves,  however,  their  regret  is 
the  reflection,  that  domestic  feelings  and  polished  man- 
ners are  best  cultivated  in  the  family  circle  and  in  good 
society,  in  the  observance  of  the  sacred  ties  which  unite 
father,  mother,  and  child,  in  the  correlative  claims  and 
duties  of  citizenship,  in  the  exercise  of  disinterested 
loyalty  and  enlightened  patriotism.  With  this  apology, 
such  as  it  is,  they  pass  over  the  consideration  of  the 
human  mind  and  its  powers  and  works,  ^Tn  solemn 
silence,^'  in  their  scheme  of  University  Education. 

Let  a charter  be  obtained  for  it ; let  professors  be  ap- 
pointed, lectures  given,  examinations  passed,  degrees 
awarded  : — what  sort  of  exactness  or  trustworthiness, 
what  philosophical  largeness,  will  attach  to  views  formed 
in  an  intellectual  atmosphere  thus  deprived  of  some  of 
the  constituent  elements  of  daylight } What  judgment 
wiU  foreign  countries  and  future  times  pass  on  the  labours 
of  the  most  acute  and  accomplished  of  the  philosophers 
who  have  been  parties  to  so  portentous  an  unreality .? 
Here  are  professors  gravely  lecturing  on  medicine,  or 


56 


Discourse  III. 


history,  or  political  economy,  who,  so  far  from  being  bound 
to  acknowledge,  are  free  to  scoff  at  the  action  of  mind 
upon  matter,  or  of  mind  upon  mind,  or  the  claims  of 
mutual  justice  and  charity.  Common  sense  indeed  and 
public  opinion  set  bounds  at  first  to  so  intolerable  a 
licence  ; yet,  as  time  goes  on,  an  omission  which  was 
originally  but  a matter  of  expedience,  commends  itself 
to  the  reason  ; and  at  length  a professor  is  found,  more 
hardy  than  his  brethren,  still  however,  as  he  himself  main- 
tains, with  sincere  respect  for  domestic  feelings  and  good 
manners,  who  takes  on  him  to  deny  psychology  iu  toto, 
to  pronounce  the  influence  of  mind  in  the  visible  world 
a superstition,  and  to  account  for  every  effect  which  is 
found  in  the  world  by  the  operation  of  physical  causes. 
Hitherto  intelligence  and  volition  were  accounted  real 
powers  ; the  muscles  act,  and  their  action  cannot  be  repre- 
sented by  any  scientific  expression ; a stone  flies  out  of  the 
hand  and  the  propulsive  force  of  the  muscle  resides  in  the 
will ; but  there  has  been  a revolution,  or  at  least  a new 
theory  in  philosophy,  and  our  Professor,  I say,  after  speak- 
ing with  the  highest  admiration  of  the  human  intellect, 
limits  its  independent  action  to  the  region  of  speculation, 
and  denies  that  it  can  be  a motive  principle,  or  can  exer- 
cise a special  interference,  in  the  material  world.  He 
ascribes  every  work,  every  external  act  of  man,  to  the 
innate  force  or  soul  of  the  physical  universe.  He  observes 
that  spiritual  agents  are  so  mysterious  and  unintelligible, 
so  uncertain  in  their  laws,  so  vague  in  their  operation,  so 
sheltered  from  experience,  that  a wise  man  will  have 
nothing  to  say  to  them.  They  belong  to  a different 
order  of  causes,  which  he  leaves  to  those  whose  pro- 
fession it  is  to  investigate  them,  and  he  confines  himself 
to  the  tangible  and  sure.  Human  exploits,  human  devices, 
human  deeds,  human  productions,  all  that  comes  under 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge,  57 

the  scholastic  terms  of  genius ''  and  art/'  and  the  meta- 
physical ideas  of  '‘duty/'  “right,"  and  “heroism,"  it  is 
his  office  to  contemplate  all  these  merely  in  their  place 
in  the  eternal  system  of  physical  cause  and  effect.  At 
length  he  undertakes  to  show  how  the  whole  fabric  of 
material  civilization  has  arisen  from  the  constructive 
powers  of  physical  elements  and  physical  laws.  He 
descants  upon  palaces,  castles,  temples,  exchanges,  bridges, 
causeways,  and  shows  that  they  never  could  have  grown 
into  the  imposing  dimensions  which  they  present  to  us, 
but  for  the  laws  of  gravitation  and  the  cohesion  of  part 
with  part.  The  pillar  would  come  down,  the  loftier  the 
more  speedily,  did  not  the  centre  of  gravity  fall  within  its 
base ; and  the  most  admired  dome  of  Palladio  or  of  Sir 
Christopher  would  give  way,  were  it  not  for  the  happy 
principle  of  the  arch.  He  surveys  the  complicated 
machinery  of  a single  day's  arrangements  in  a private 
family ; our  dress,  our  furniture,  our  hospitable  board  ; 
what  would  become  of  them,  he  asks,  but  for  the  laws  of 
physical  nature.?  Those  laws  are  the  causes  of  our 
carpets,  our  furniture,  our  travelling,  and  our  social  inter- 
course. Firm  stitches  have  a natural  power,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  toughness  of  the  material  adopted,  to  keep 
together  separate  portions  of  cloth  ; sofas  and  chairs 
could  not  turn  upside  down,  even  if  they  would  ; and  it 
is  a property  of  caloric  to  relax  the  fibres  of  animal 
matter,  acting  through  water  in  one  way,  through  oil  in 
another,  and  this  is  the  whole  mystery  of  the  most 
elaborate  aiisine : — but  I should  be  tedious  if  I con- 
tinued the  illustration. 


6. 

Now,  Gentlemen,  pray  understand  how  it  is  to  be  here 
applied.  I am  not  supposing  that  the  principles  of 


58 


Discourse  III. 


Theology  and  Psychology  are  the  same,  or  arguing  from 
the  works  of  man  to  the  works  of  God,  which  Paley  has 
done,  which  Hume  has  protested  against.  I am  not 
busying  myself  to  prove  the  existence  and  attributes  of 
God,  b}^  means  of  the  Argument  from  design.  I am 
not  proving  anything  at  all  about  the  Supreme  Being. 
On  the  contrary,  I am  assuming  His  existence,  and  I do 
but  say  this: — that,  man  existing,  no  University  Pro- 
fessor, who  had  suppressed  in  physical  lectures  the  idea 
of  volition,  who  did  not  take  volition  for  granted,  could 
escape  a one-sided,  a radically  false  view  of  the  things 
which  he  discussed ; not  indeed  that  his  own  definitions, 
principles,  and  laws  would  be  wrong,  or  his  abstract 
statements,  but  his  considering  his  own  study  to  be  the 
key  of  everything  that  takes  place  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  his  passing  over  anthropology,  this  would  be 
his  error.  I say,  it  would  not  be  his  science  which  was 
untrue,  but  his  so-called  knowledge  which  was  unreal. 
He  would  be  deciding  on  facts  by  means  of  theories. 
The  various  busy  world,  spread  out  before  our  eyes,  is 
physical,  but  it  is  more  than  physical ; and,  in  making 
its  actual  system  identical  with  his  scientific  analysis, 
formed  on  a particular  aspect,  such  a Professor  as  I have 
imagined  was  betraying  a want  of  philosophical  depth, 
and  an  ignorance  of  what  an  University  Teaching  ought  ; 
to  be.  He  was  no  longer  a teacher  of  liberal  knowledge,  : 
but  a narrow-minded  bigot.  While  his  doctrines  pro-  * 
fessed  to  be  conclusions  formed  upon  an  hypothesis  or  . 
partial  truth,  they  were  undeniable ; not  so  if  they  pro- 
fessed to  give  results  in  facts  which  he  could  grasp  and 
take  possession  of.  Granting,  indeed,  that  a man’s  arm 
is  moved  by  a simple  physical  cause,  then  of  course  we 
may  dispute  about  the  various  external  influences  which, 
when  it  changes  its  position,  sway  it  to  and  fro,  like  a 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge,  59 

scai-ecrow  in  a garden ; but  to  assert  that  the  motive 
cause  is  physical,  this  is  an  assumption  in  a case,  when 
our  question  is  about  a matter  of  fact,  not  about  the 
logical  consequences  of  an  assumed  premiss.  And,  in 
like  manner,  if  a people  prays,  and  the  wind  changes,  the 
rain  ceases,  the  sun  shines,  and  the  harvest  is  safely 
housed,  when  no  one  expected  it,  our  Professor  may,  if 
he  will,  consult  the  barometer,  discourse  about  the 
atmosphere,  and  throw  what  has  happened  into  an 
equation,  ingenious,  even  though  it  be  not  true ; but, 
should  he  proceed  to  re^t  the  phenomenon,  in  matter  of 
fact,  simply  upon  a physical  cause,  to  the  exclusion  of  a 
divine,  and  to  say  that  the  given  case  actually  belongs  to 
his  science  because  other  like  cases  do,  I must  tell  him, 
Ne  sutor  ultra  crepidam  : he  is  making  his  particular 
craft  usurp  and  occupy  the  universe.  This  then  is  the 
drift  of  my  illustration.  If  the  creature  is  ever  setting  in 
motion  an  endless  series  of  physical  causes  and  effects, 
much  more  is  the  Creator ; and  as  our  excluding  volition 
from  our  range  of  ideas  is  a denial  of  the  soul,  so  our 
ignoring  Divine  Agency  is  a virtual  denial  of  God. 
Moreover,  supposing  man  can  will  and  act  of  himself  in 
spite  of  physics,  to  shut  up  this  great  truth,  though  one, 
is  \f>  put  our  whole  encyclopaedia  of  knowledge  out  of 
joint ; and  supposing  God  can  will  and  act  of  Himself  in 
this  world  which  He  has  made,  and  we  deny  or  slur  it 
over,  then  we  are  throwing  the  circle  of  universal  science 
into  a like,  or  a far  worse  confusion. 

Worse  incomparably,  for  the  idea  of  God,  if  there  be 
a God,  is  infinitely  higher  than  the  idea  of  man,  if  there 
be  man.  If  to  blot  out  man’s  agency  is  to  deface  the 
book  of  knowledge,  on  the  supposition  of  that  agency 
existing,  what  must  it  be,  supposing  it  exists,  to  blot  out 
the  agency  of  God  } I have  hitherto  been  engaged  in 


60 


Discourse  IIL 


showing  that  all  the  sciences  come  to  us  as  one,  that 
they  all  relate  to  one  and  the  same  integral  subject- 
matter,  that  each  separately  is  more  or  less  an  abstrac- 
tion, wholly  true  as  an  hypothesis,  but  not  wholly  trust- 
worthy in  the  concrete,  conversant  with  relations  more 
than  with  facts,  with  principles  more  than  with  agents, 
needing  the  support  and  guarantee  of  its  sister  sciences, 
and  giving  in  turn  while  it  takes  : — from  which  it  follows, 
that  none  can  safely  be  omitted,  if  we  would  obtain  the 
exactest  knowledge  possible  of  things  as  they  are,  and 
that  the  omission  is  more  or  less  important,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  field  which  each  covers,  and  the  depth  to 
which  it  penetrates,  and  the  order  to  which  it  belongs ; 
for  its  loss  is  a positive  privation  of  an  influence  which 
exerts  itself  in  the  correction  and  completion  of  the  rest. 
This  is  a general  statement ; but  now  as  to  Theology  in 
particular,  what,  in  matter  of  fact,  are  its  pretensions, 
what  its  importance,  what  its  influence  upon  other 
branches  of  knowledge,  supposing  there  be  a God,  which 
it  would  not  become  me  to  set  about  proving?  Has  it 
vast  dimensions,  or  does  it  lie  in  a nutshell  ? Will  its 
omission  be  imperceptible,  or  will  it  destroy  the  equili- 
brium of  the  whole  system  of  Knowledge  ? This  is  the 
inquiry  to  which  I proceed. 

7- 

Now  what  is  Theology  ? First,  I will  tell  you  what  it 
is  not.  And  here,  in  the  first  place  (though  of  course  I 
speak  on  the  subject  as  a Catholic),  observe  that,  strictly 
speaking,  I am  not  assuming  that  Catholicism  is  true, 
while  I make  myself  the  champion  of  Theology. 
Catholicism  has  not  formally  entered  into  my  argument 
hitherto,  nor  shall  I just  now  assume  any  principle 
peculiar  to  it,  for  reasons  which  will  appear  in  the  sequel, 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge,  6 1 

though  of  course  I shall  use  Catholic  language.  Neither, 
secondly,  will  I fall  into  the  fashion  of  the  day,  of  identi- 
fying Natural  Theology  with  Physical  Theology ; which 
said  Physical  Theology  is  a most  jejune  study,  considered 
as  a science,  and  really  is  no  science  at  all,  for  it  is 
ordinarily  nothing  more  than  a series  of  pious  or  polemical 
remarks  upon  the  physical  world  viewed  religiously, 
whereas  the  word  Natural  ” properly  comprehends  man 
and  society,  and  all  that  is  involved  therein,  as  the  great 
Protestant  writer,  Dr.  Butler,  shows  us.  Nor,  in  the  third 
place,  do  I mean  by  Theology  polemics  of  any  kind  ; for 
instance,  what  are  called  the  Evidences  of  Religion,’* 
or  the  Christian  Evidences for,  though  these  constitute 
a science  supplemental  to  Theology  and  are  necessary 
in  their  place,  they  are  not  Theology  itself,  unless  an 
army  is  synonymous  with  the  body  politic.  Nor,  fourthl)’, 
do  I mean  by  Theology  that  vague  thing  called  ‘‘  Chris- 
tianity,” or  our  common  Christianity,”  or  Christianity 
the  law  of  the  land,”  if  there  is  any  man  alive  who  can 
tell  what  it  is.  I discard  it,  for  the  very  reason  that  it 
cannot  throw  itself  into  a proposition.  Lastly,  I do  not 
understand  by  Theology,  acquaintance  with  the  Scrip- 
tures ; for,  though  no  person  of  religious  feelings  can 
read  Scripture  but  he  will  find  those  feelings  roused, 
and  gain  much  knowledge  of  history  into  the  bargain, 
yet  historical  reading  and  religious  feeling  are  not  science. 
I mean  none  of  these  things  by  Theology,  I simply 
mean  the  Science  of  God,  or  the  truths  we  know  about 
God  put  into  system ; just  as  we  have  a science  of  the 
stars,  and  call  it  astronomy,  or  of  the  crust  of  the  earth, 
and  call  it  geology. 

For  instance,  I mean,  for  this  is  the  main  point,  that, 
as  in  the  human  frame  there  is  a living  principle,  acting 
upon  it  and  through  it  by  means  of  volition,  so,  behind 


62 


Discourse  III, 


the  veil  of  the  visible  universe,  there  is  an  invisible, 
intelligent  Being,  acting  on  and  through  it,  as  and  when 
He  will.  Further,  I mean  that  this  invisible  Agent  is  in 
no  sense  a soul  of  the  world,  after  the  analogy  of  human 
nature,  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  absolutely  distinct  from 
the  world,  as  being  its  Creator,  Upholder,  Governor,  and 
Sovereign  Lord.  Here  we  are  at  once  brought  into  the 
circle  of  doctrines  which  the  idea  of  God  embodies.  I 
mean  then  by  the  Supreme  Being,  one  who  is  simply 
self-dependent,  and  the  only  Being  who  is  such ; moreover, 
that  He  is  without  beginning  or  Eternal,  and  the  only 
Eternal ; that  in  consequence  He  has  lived  a whole 
eternity  by  Himself ; and  hence  that  He  is  all-sufficient, 
sufficient  for  His  own  blessedness,  and  all-blessed,  and 
ever-blessed.  Further,  I mean  a Being,  who,  having 
these  prerogatives,  has  the  Supreme  Good,  or  rather  is 
the  Supreme  Good,  or  has  all  the  attributes  of  Good  in 
infinite  intenseness  ; all  wisdom,  all  truth,  all  justice,  all 
love,  all  holiness,  all  beautifulness ; who  is  omnipotent, 
omniscient,  omnipresent;  ineffably  one, absolutely  perfect; 
and  such,  that  what  we  do  not  know  and  cannot  even 
imagine  of  Him,  is  far  more  wonderful  than  what  we  do 
and  can.  I mean  One  who  is  sovereign  over  His  own  will 
and  actions,  though  always  according  to  the  eternal  Rule 
of  right  and  wrong,  which  is  Himself.  I mean,  moreover, 
that  He  created  all  things  out  of  nothing,  and  preserves 
them  every  moment,  and  could  destroy  them  as  easily  as 
He  made  them;  and  that,  in  consequence,  He  is  separated 
from  them  by  an  abyss,  and  is  incommunicable  in  all 
His  attributes.  And  further,  He  has  stamped  upon  all 
things,  in  the  hour  of  their  creation,  their  respective 
natures,  and  has  given  them  their  work  and  mission  and 
their  length  of  days,  greater  or  less,  in  their  appointed 
place.  I mean,  too,  that  He  is  ever  present  with  His 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge,  63 

works,  one  by  one,  and  confronts  every  thing  He  has 
made  by  His  particular  and  most  loving  Providence,  and 
manifests  Himself  to  each  according  to  its  needs  : and 
has  on  rational  beings  imprinted  the  moral  law,  and 
given  them  power  to  obey  it,  imposing  on  them  the  duty 
of  worship  and  service,  searching  and  scanning  them 
througn  and  through  with  His  omniscient  eye,  and 
putting  before  them  a present  trial  and  a judgment  to 
come. 

Such  is  what  Theology  teaches  about  God,  a doctrine, 
as  the  very  idea  of  its  subject-matter  presupposes,  so 
mysterious  as  in  its  fulness  to  lie  beyond  any  system, 
and  in  particular  aspects  to  be  simply  external  to  nature, 
and  to  seem  in  parts  even  to  be  irreconcileable  with 
itself,  the  imagination  being  unable  to  embrace  what  the 
reason  determines.  It  teaches  of  a Being  infinite,  yet 
personal ; all-blessed,  yet  ever  operative ; absolutely 
separate  from  the  creature,  yet  in  every  part  of  the 
creation  at  every  moment ; above  all  things,  yet  under 
every  thing.  It  teaches  of  a Being  who,  though  the 
highest,  yet  in  the  work  of  creation,  conservation, 
government,  retribution,  makes  Himself,  as  it  were,  the 
minister  and  servant  of  all ; who,  though  inhabiting 
eternity,  allows  Himself  to  take  an  interest,  and  to  have 
a sympathy,  in  the  matters  of  space  and  time.  His  are 
all  beings,  visible  and  invisible,  the  noblest  and  the  vilest 
of  them.  His.  are  the  substance,  and  the  operation,  and 
the  results  of  that  system  of  physical  nature  into  which 
we  are  born.  His  too  are  the  powers  and  achievements 
of  the  intellectual  essences,  on  which  He  has  bestowed 
an  independent  action  and  the  gift  of  origination.  The 
laws  of  the  universe,  the  principles  of  truth,  the  relation 
of  one  thing  to  another,  their  qualities  and  virtues,  the 
order  and  harmony  of  the  whole,  all  that  exists,  is  from 


64 


Discourse  III. 


Him  ; and,  if  evil  is  not  from  Him,  as  assuredly  it  is  not, 
this  is  because  evil  has  no  substance  of  its  own,  but  is 
only  the  defect,  excess,  per\’^ersion,  or  corruption  of  that 
which  has  substance.  All  we  see,  hear,  and  touch,  the  re- 
mote sidereal  firmament,  as  well  as  our  own  sea  and  land, 
and  the  elements  which  compose  them,  and  the  ordinances 
they  obey,  are  His.  The  primary  atoms  of  matter,  their 
properties,  their  mutual  action,  their  disposition  and 
collocation,  electricity,  magnetism,  gravitation,  light,  and 
whatever  other  subtle  principles  or  operations  the  wit  of 
man  is  detecting  or  shall  detect,  are  the  work  of  His 
hands.  From  Him  has  been  every  movement  which 
has  convulsed  and  re-fashioned  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
The  most  insignificant  or  unsightly  insect  is  from  Him, 
and  good  in  its  kind  ; the  ever-teeming,  inexhaustible 
swarms  of  animalculae,  the  myriads  of  living  motes  in- 
visible to  the  naked  eye,  the  restless  ever-spreading 
vegetation  which  creeps  like  a garment  over  the  whole 
earth,  the  lofty  cedar,  the  umbrageous  banana,  are  His. 
His  are  the  tribes  and  families  of  birds  and  beasts,  their 
graceful  forms,  their  wild  gestures,  and  their  passionate 
cries. 

And  so  in  the  intellectual,  moral,  social,  and  political 
world.  Man,  with  his  motives  and  works,  his  languages, 
his  propagation,  his  diffusion,  is  from  Him.  Agriculture, 
medicine,  and  the  arts  of  life,  are  His  gifts.  Society, 
laws,  government.  He  is  their  sanction.  The  pageant  of 
earthly  royalty  has  the  semblance  and  the  benediction 
of  the  Eternal  King.  Peace  and  civilization,  commerce 
and  adventure,  wars  when  just,  conquest  when  humane 
and  necessary,  have  His  co-operation,  and  His  blessing 
upon  them.  The  course  of  events,  the  revolution  of 
empires,  the  rise  and  fall  of  states,  the  periods  and  eras, 
the  progresses  and  the  retrogressions  of  the  world  s 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  K^iowledge.  65 

history,  not  indeed  the  incidental  sin,  over-abundant  as 
it  is,  but  the  great  outlines  and  the  results  of  human 
affairs,  are  from  His  disposition.  The  elements  and 
types  and  seminal  principles  and  constructive  powers  of 
the  moral  world,  in  ruins  though  it  be,  are  to  be  referred 
to  Him.  He  enlighteneth  every  man  that  cometh  into 
this  world.”  His  are  the  dictates  of  the  moral  sense,  and 
the  retributive  reproaches  of  conscience.  To  Him  must 
be  ascribed  the  rich  endowments  of  the  intellect,  the 
irradiation  of  genius,  the  imagination  of  the  poet,  the 
sagacity  of  the  politician,  the  wisdom  (as  Scripture  calls 
it),  which  now  rears  and  decorates  the  Temple,  now 
manifests  itself  in  proverb  or  in  parable.  The  old  saws 
of  nations,  the  majestic  precepts  of  philosophy,  the 
luminous  maxims  of  law,  the  oracles  of  individual  wis- 
dom, the  traditionary  rules  of  truth,  justice,  and  religion, 
even  though  imbedded  in  the  corruption,  or  alloyed  with 
the  pride,  of  the  world,  betoken  His  original  agency,  and 
His  long-suffering  presence.  Even  where  there  is  habi- 
tual rebellion  against  Him,  or  profound  far-spreading 
social  depravity,  still  the  undercurrent,  or  the  heroic  out- 
burst, of  natural  virtue,  as  well  as  the  yearnings  of  the 
heart  after  what  it  has  not,  and  its  presentiment  of  its 
true  remedies,  are  to  be  ascribed  to  the  Author  of  all 
good.  Anticipations  or  reminiscences  of  His  glory  haunt 
the  mind  of  the  self-sufficient  sage,  and  of  the  pagan 
devotee ; His  writing  is  upon  the  wall,  whether  of  the 
Indian  fane,  or  of  the  porticoes  of  Greece.  He  introduces 
Himself,  He  all  but  concurs,  according  to  His  good  plea- 
sure, and  in  His  selected  season,  in  the  issues  of  unbelief, 
superstition,  and  false  worship,  and  He  changes  the  cha- 
racter of  acts  by  His  overruling  operation.  He  conde- 
scends, though  He  gives  no  sanction,  to  the  altars  and 
shrines  of  imposture,  and  He  makes  His  own  fiat  the 

S 


66 


Discourse  IIL 


substitute  for  its  sorceries.  He  speaks  amid  the  incan- 
tations of  Balaam,  raises  Samuel’s  spirit  in  the  witch’s 
cavern,  prophesies  of  the  Messias  by  the  tongue  of  the 
Sibyl,  forces  Python  to  recognize  His  ministers,  and 
baptizes  by  the  hand  of  the  misbeliever.  He  is  with  the 
heathen  dramatist  in  his  denunciations  of  injustice  and 
tyranny,  and  his  auguries  of  divine  vengeance  upon 
crime.  Even  on  the  unseemly  legends  of  a popular 
mythology  He  casts  His  shadow,  and  is  dimly  discerned 
in  the  ode  or  the  epic,  as  in  troubled  water  or  in  fan- 
tastic dreams.  All  that  is  good,  all  that  is  true,  all  that 
is  beautiful,  all  that  is  beneficent,  be  it  great  or  small,  be  it 
perfect  or  fragmentary,  natural  as  well  as  supernatural, 
moral  as  well  as  material,  comes  from  Him. 

8. 

If  this  be  a sketch,  accurate  in  substance  and  as  far  as 
it  goes,  of  the  doctrines  proper  to  Theology,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  doctrine  of  a particular  Providence,  which  is 
the  portion  of  it  most  on  a level  with  human  sciences,  I 
cannot  understand  at  all  how,  supposing  it  to  be  true,  it  ' 
can  fail,  considered  as  knowledge,  to  exert  a powerful  \ 
influence  on  philosophy,  literature,  and  every  intellectual  i 
creation  or  discovery  whatever.  I cannot  understand  ] 
how  it  is  possible,  as  the  phrase  goes,  to  blink  the  ques- 
tion of  its  truth  or  falsehood.  It  meets  us  with  a pro- 
fession and  a proffer  of  the  highest  truths  of  which  the 
human  mind  is  capable ; it  embraces  a range  of  subjects 
the  most  diversified  and  distant  from  each  other.  What 
science  will  not  find  one  part  or  other  of  its  province  ' 
traversed  by  its  path  ? What  results  of  philosophic 
speculation  are  unquestionable,  if  they  have  been  gained 
without  inquiry  as  to  what  Theology  had  to  say  to  them  ? 
Does  it  cast  no  light  upon  history  ? has  it  no  influence 


' Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge.  67 

upon  the  principles  of  ethics  ? is  it  without  any  sort  of 
bearing  on  physics,  metaphysics,  and  political  science  ? 
Can  we  drop  it  out  of  the  circle  of  knowledge,  without 
allowing,  either  that  that  circle  is  thereby  mutilated,  or  on 
the  other  hand,  that  Theology  is  really  no  science  ? 

And  this  dilemma  is  the  more  inevitable,  because 
Theology  is  so  precise  and  consistent  in  its  intellectual 
structure.  When  I speak  of  Theism  or  Monotheism,  I 
am  not  throwing  together  discordant  doctrines  ; I am 
not  merging  belief,  opinion,  persuasion,  of  whatever  kind, 
into  a shapeless  aggregate,  by  the  help  of  ambiguous 
words,  and  dignifying  this  medley  by  the  name  of 
Theology.  1 speak  of  one  idea  unfolded  in  its  just  pro- 
portions, carried  out  upon  an  intelligible  method,  and 
issuing  in  necessary  and  immutable  results  ; understood 
indeed  at  one  time  and  place  better  than  at  another, 
held  here  and  there  with  more  or  less  of  inconsistency, 
but  still,  after  all,  in  all  times  and  places,  where  it  is  found, 
the  evolution,  not  of  half-a-dozen  ideas,  but  of  one. 

9- 

And  here  I am  led  to  another  and  most  important 
point  in  the  argument  in  its  behalf, — I mean  its  wide  re- 
ception. Theology,  as  I have  described  it,  is  no  accident 
of  particular  minds,  as  are  certain  systems,  for  instance, 
of  prophetical  interpretation.  It  is  not  the  sudden  birth  of 
a crisis,  as  the  Lutheran  or  Wesleyan  doctrine.  It  is  not 
the  splendid  development  of  some  uprising  philosophy, 
as  the  Cartesian  or  Platonic.  It  is  not  the  fashion  of  a 
season,  as  certain  medical  treatments  may  be  considered. 
It  has  had  a place,  if  not  possession,  in  the  intellectual 
world  from  time  immemorial  ; it  has  been  received  by 
minds  the  most  various,  and  in  systems  of  religion  the 
most  hostile  to  each  other.  It  has  primd  facie  claims 


68 


Discourse  IIL 


upon  us,  so  imposing,  that  it  can  only  be  rejected  on  the 
ground  of  those  claims  being  nothing  more  than  impoi’s- 
ing,  that  is,  being  false.  As  to  our  own  countries,  rU 
occupies  our  language,  it  meets  us  at  every  turn  in  o^^r 
literature,  it  is  the  secret  assumption,  too  axiomatic  to  be 
distinctly  professed,  of  all  our  writers  ; nor  can  we  help 
assuming  it  ourselves,  except  by  the  most  unnatural 
vigilance.  Whoever  philosophizes,  starts  with  it,  and 
introduces  it,  when  he  will,  without  any  apology.  Bacon, 
Hooker,  Taylor,  Cudworth,  Locke,  Newton,  Clarke, 
Berkeley,  and  Butler,  and  it  would  be  as  easy  to  find 
more,  as  difficult  to  find  greater  names  among  English 
authors,  inculcate  or  comment  upon  it.  Men  the  most 
opposed,  in  creed  or  cast  of  mind,  Addison  and  Johnson, 
Shakespeare  and  Milton,  Lord  Herbert  and  Baxter, 
herald  it  forth.  Nor  is  it  an  English  or  a Protestant 
notion  only ; you  track  it  across  the  Continent,  you 
pursue  it  into  former  ages.  When  was  the  world  with- 
out it  ? Have  the  systems  of  Atheism  or  Pantheism,  as 
sciences,  prevailed  in  the  literature  of  nations,  or  received 
a formation  or  attained  a completeness  such  as  Mono- 
theism ? We  find  it  in  old  Greece,  and  even  in  Rome, 
as  well  as  in  Judea  and  the  East.  We  find  it  in 
popular  literature,  in  philosophy,  in  poetry,  as  a positive 
and  settled  teaching,  differing  not  at  all  in  the  appear- 
ance it  presents,  whether  in  Protestant  England,  or  in 
schismatical  Russia,  or  in  the  Mahometan  populations, 
or  in  the  Catholic  Church.  If  ever  there  was  a subject 
of  thought,  which  had  earned  by  prescription  to  be 
received  among  the  studies  of  a University,  and  which 
could  not  be  rejected  except  on  the  score  of  convicted 
imposture,  as  astrology  or  alchemy  ; if  there  be  a science 
anywhere,  which  at  least  could  claim  not  to  be  ignored, 
but  to  be  entertained,  and  either  distinctly  accepted  or 


Bearing  of  Theology  on  Other  Knowledge.  69 

distinctly  reprobated,  or  rather,  which  cannot  be  passed 
over  in  a scheme  of  universal  instruction,  without  involv- 
ing a positive  denial  of  its  truth,  it  is  this  ancient,  this 
far-spreading  philosophy. 


10. 

And  now,  Gentlemen,  I may  bring  a somewhat  tedious 
discussion  to  a close.  It  will  not  take  many  words  to 
sum  up  what  I have  been  urging.  I say  then,  if  the 
jyanous  branches  of  knowledge,  which  are  the  matter  of 
teaching  in  a Universify,  so  HarTg  together,  that  npne_, 
can  be  neglected  without  prejudice  to  the  perfection  of 
the  rest,  and  if  Theology  be  a branch  of  knowledge^  of  ^ 
A^He^recegdon,  of  philosophical  structure,  of  unutterable 
importance,  and  of  supreme  influence,  to  what  con- 
clusion are  we  brought  from  these  two  premisses  but 
this ) that  to  withdraw  Theology  from  the.  public 
schools  is  to  impair  the  com"pleteness  and,  to  invalidate 
thf  trustworthiness  of  all  that  is  actually  taught  in  them. 

But  I have  been  insisting  simply  on  Natural  Theology, 
and  that,  because  I wished  to  carry  along  with  me  those 
who  were  not  Catholics,  and,  again,  as  being  confident, 
that  no  one  can  really  set  himself  to  master  and  to 
teach  the  doctrine  of  an  intelligent  Creator  in  its  fulness, 
without  going  on  a great  deal  farther  than  he  at  present 
dreams.  I say,  then,  secondly  : — if  this  Science,  even 
as  human  reason  may  attain  to  it,  has  such  claims  on 
the  regard,  and  enters  so  variously  into  the  objects,  of 
the  Professor  of  Universal  Knowledge,  how  can  any 
Catholic  imagine  that  it  is  possible  for  him  to  cultivate 
Philosophy  and  Science  with  due  attention  to  their 
ultimate  end,  which  is  Truth,  supposing  that  system  of 
revealed  facts  and  principles,  which  constitutes  the 
Catholic  Faith,  which  goes  so  far  beyond  nature,  and 


70 


Discourse  III. 


which  he  knows  to  be  most  true,  be  omitted  from  among 
the  subjects  of  his  teaching  ? 

In  a word,  Religious  Truth  is  not  only  a portion,  but 
a condition  of  general  knowledge.  To  blot  it  out  is 
nothing  short,  if  I may  so  speak,  of  unravelling  the  web 
of  University  Teaching.  It  is,  according  to  the  Greek 
proverb,  to  take  the  Spring  from  out  of  the  year ; it  is 
to  imitate  the  preposterous  proceeding  of  those  trage- 
dians who  represented  a drama  with  the  omission  of  its 
principal  part. 


n 


DISCOURSE  TV. 


BEARING  OF  OTHER  BRANCHES  OF  KNOWLEDGE  ON 
THEOLOGY. 


I. 


OTHING  is  more  common  in  the  world  at  large 


1 than  to  consider  the  resistance,  made  on  the  part 
of  religious  men,  especially  Catholics,  to  the  separation 
of  Secular  Education  from  Religion,  as  a plain  token 
that  there  is  some  real  contrariety  between  human  science 
and  Revelation.  To  the  multitude  who  draw  this  infer- 
ence, it  matters  not  whether  the  protesting  parties  avow 
their  belief  in  this  contrariety  or  not ; it  is  borne  in  upon 
the  many,  as  if  it  were  self-evident,  that  religious  men 
would  not  thus  be  jealous  and  alarmed  about  Science, 
did  they  not  feel  instinctively,  though  they  may  not 
recognize  it,  that  knowledge  is  their  born  enemy,  and 
that  its  progress,  if  it  is  not  arrested,  will  be  certain  to 
destroy  all  that  they  hold  venerable  and  dear.  It  looks 
to  the  world  like  a misgiving  on  our  part  similar  to  that 
which  is  imputed  to  our  refusal  to  educate  by  means  of 
the  Bible  only ; why  should  you  dread  the  sacred  text, 
men  say,  if  it  be  not  against  you } And  in  like  man- 
ner, why  should  you  dread  secular  education,  except 
that  it  is  against  you  ? Why  impede  the  circulation 
of  books  which  take  religious  views  opposite  to  your 
own  ? Why  forbid  your  children  and  scholars  the  free 


72 


Discourse  IV, 


perusal  of  poems  or  tales  or  essays  or  other  light 
literature  which  you  fear  would  unsettle  their  minds? 
Why  oblige  them  to  know  these  persons  and  to  shun 
those,  if  you  think  that  your  friends  have  reason  on  their 
side  as  fully  as  your  opponents  ? Truth  is  bold  and  un- 
suspicious ; want  of  self-reliance  is  the  mark  of  false- 
hood. 

Now,  as  far  as  this  objection  relates  to  any  supposed 
opposition  between  secular  science  and  divine,  which  is 
the  subject  on  which  I am  at  present  engaged,  I made  a 
sufficient  answer  to  it  in  my  foregoing  Discourse.  In  it 
I said,  that,  in  order  to  have  possession  of  truth  at  all, 
we  must  have  the  whole  truth  ; and  no’  one  science,  no 
two  sciences,  no  one  family  of  sciences,  nay,  not  even  all 
secular  science,  is  the  whole  truth  ; that  revealed  truth 
enters  to  a very  great  extent  into  the  province  of 
science,  philosophy,  and  literature,  and  that  to  put  it  on 
one  side,  in  compliment  to  secular  science,  is  simply, 
under  colour  of  a compliment,  to  do  science  a great 
damage.  I do  not  say  that  every  science  will  be  equally 
affected  by  the  omission ; pure  mathematics  will  not 
suffer  at  all ; chemistry  will  suffer  less  than  politics, 
politics  than  history,  ethics,  or  metaphysics ; still,  that 
the  various  branches  of  science  are  intimately  connected 
with  each  other,  and  form  one  whole,  which  whole  is  im- 
paired, and  to  an  extent  which  it  is  difficult  to  limit,  by 
any  considerable  omission  of  knowledge,  of  whatever 
kind,  and  that  revealed  knowledge  is  very  far  indeed 
from  an  inconsiderable  department  of  knowledge,  this  I 
consider  undeniable.  As  the  written  and  unwritten  word 
of  God  make  up  Revelation  as  a whole,  and  the  written, 
taken  by  itself,  is  but  a part  of  that  whole,  so  in  turn 
Revelation  itself  may  be  viewed  as  one  of  the  constituent 
parts  of  human  knowledge,  considered  as  a whole,  and 


Bearing  of  Other  Knoivledge  on  Theology.  73 

its  omission  is  the  omission  of  one  of  those  constituent 
parts.  Revealed  Religion  furnishes  facts  to  the  other 
sciences,  which  those  sciences,  left  to  themselves,  would 
never  reach ; and  it  invalidates  apparent  facts,  which, 
left  to  themselves,  they  would  imagine.  Thus,  in  the 
science  of  history,  the  preservation  of  our  race  in  Noah's 
ark  is  an  historical  fact,  which  history  never  would 
arrive  at  without  Revelation  ; and,  in  the  province  of 
physiology  and  moral  philosophy,  our  race’s  progress 
and  perfectibility  is  a dream,  because  Revelation  con- 
tradicts it,  whatever  may  be  plausibly  argued  in  its  be- 
half by  scientific  inquirers.  It  is  not  then  that  Catho- 
lics are  afraid  of  human  knowledge,  but  that  they  are 
proud  of  divine  knowledge,  and  that  they  think  the 
omission  of  any  kind  of  knowledge  whatever,  human  or 
divine,  to  be,  as  far  as  it  goes,  not  knowledge,  but 
ignorance. 


2. 

Thus  I anticipated  the  objection  in  question  last  week: 
now  I am  going  to  make  it  the  introduction  to  a further 
view  of  the  relation  of  secular  knowledge  to  divine.  I 
observe,  then,  that,  if  you  drop  any  science  out  of  the 
circle  of  knowledge,  you  cannot  keep  its  place  vacant  for 
it ; that  science  is  forgotten ; the  other  sciences  close 
up,  or,  in  other  words,  they  exceed  their  proper  bounds, 
and  intrude  where  they  have  no  right.  For  instance,  I 
suppose,  if  ethics  were  sent  into  banishment,  its  territory 
would  soon  disappear,  under  a treaty  of  partition,  as  it 
may  be  called,  between  law,  political  economy,  and 
physiology  ; what,  again,  would  become  of  the  pro- 
vince of  experimental  science,  if  made  over  to  the  Anti- 
quarian Society ; or  of  history,  if  surrendered  out  and 
out  to  Metaphysicians } The  case  is  the  same  with  the 


74 


Discourse  IV 


subject-matter  of  Theology  ; it  would  be  the  prey  of  a 
dozen  various  sciences,  if  Theology  were  put  out  of 
possession  ; and  not  only  so,  but  those  sciences  would 
be  plainly  exceeding  their  rights  and  their  capacities  in 
seizing  upon  it.  They  would  be  sure  to  teach  wrongly, 
where  they  had  no  mission  to  teach  at  all.  The  enemies 
of  Catholicism  ought  to  be  the  last  to  deny  this  : — for  they 
have  never  been  blind  to  a like  usurpation,  as  they  have 
called  it,  on  the  part  of  theologians  ; those  who  accuse 
us  of  wishing,  in  accordance  with  Scripture  language,  to 
make  the  sun  go  round  the  earth,  are  not  the  men  to 
deny  that  a science  which  exceeds  its  limits  falls  into 
error. 

I neither  then  am  able  nor  care  to  deny,  rather  I 
assert  the  fact,  and  to-day  I am  going  on  to  account  for 
it,  that  any  secular  science,  cultivated  exclusively,  may 
become  dangerous  to  Religion  ; and  I account  for  it  on 
this  broad  principle,  that  no  science  whatever,  however 
comprehensive  it  may  be,  but  will  fall  largely  into  error, 
if  it  be  constituted  the  sole  exponent  of  all  things  in 
heaven  and  earth,  and  that,  for  the  simple  reason  that  it 
is  encroaching  on  territory  not  its  own,  and  undertaking 
problems  which  it  has  no  instruments  to  solve.  And  I 
set  off  thus : 


3- 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  human  mind  is  to  take 
hold  of  and  appropriate  what  meets  the  senses,  and  here- 
in lies  a chief  distinction  between  man’s  and  a brute’s  use 
of  them.  Brutes  gaze  on  sights,  they  are  arrested  by 
sounds } and  what  they  see  and  what  they  hear  are 
mainly  sights  and  sounds  only.  The  intellect  of  man, 
on  the  contrary,  energizes  as  well  as  his  eye  or  ear,  and 
perceives  in  sights  and  sounds  something  beyond  them. 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  75 

It  seizes  and  unites  what  the  senses  present  to  it';  it 
grasps  and  forms  what  need  not  have  been  seen  or 
heard  except  in  its  constituent  parts.  It  discerns  in  lines 
and  colours,  or  in  tones,  what  is  beautiful  and  what  is 
not.  It  gives  them  a meaning,  and  invests  them  with 
an  idea.  It  gathers  up  a succession  of  notes  into  the 
expression  of  a whole,  and  calls  it  a melody ; it  has  a 
keen  sensibility  towards  angles  and  curves,  lights  and 
shadows,  tints  and  contours.  It  distinguishes  between 
rule  and  exception,  between  accident  and  design.  It 
assigns  phenomena  to  a general  law,  qualities  to  a subject, 
acts  to  a principle,  and  effects  to  a cause.  In  a word, 
it  philosophizes  ; for  I suppose  Science  and  Philosophy, 
in  their  elementary  idea,  are  nothing  else  but  this  habit 
of  viewing,  as  it  may  be  called,  the  objects  which  sense 
conveys  to  the  mind,  of  throwing  them  into  system,  and 
uniting  and  stamping  them  with  one  form. 

This  method  is  so  natural  to  us,  as  I have  said,  as  to  be 
almost  spontaneous  ; and  we  are  impatient  when  we  can- 
not exercise  it,  and  in  consequence  we  do  not  always 
wait  to  have  the  means  of  exercising  it  aright,  but  we 
often  put  up  with  insufficient  or  absurd  views  or  inter- 
pretations of  what  we  meet  with,  rather  than  have  none 
at  all.  We  refer  the  various  matters  which  are  brought 
home  to  us,  material  or  moral,  to  causes  which  we  happen 
to  know  of,  or  to  such  as  are  simply  imaginary,  sooner 
than  refer  them  to  nothing;  and  according  to  the  activity 
of  our  intellect  do  we  feel  a pain  and  begin  to  fret,  if  we 
are  not  able  to  do  so.  Here  we  have  an  explanation  of 
the  multitude  of  off-hand  sayings,  flippant  judgments, 
and  shallow  generalizations,  with  which  the  world 
abounds.  Not  from  self-will  only,  nor  from  malevolence, 
but  from  the  irritation  which  suspense  occasions,  is  the 
mind  forced  on  to  pronounce,  without  sufficient  data  for 


76 


Discourse  IV. 


pronouncing.  Who  does  not  form  some  view  or  other, 
for  instance,  of  any  public  man,  or  any  public  event,  nay, 
even  so  far  in  some  cases  as  to  reach  the  mental  delinea- 
tion of  his  appearance  or  of  its  scene  ? yet  how  few  have 
a right  to  form  any  view.  Hence  the  misconceptions  of 
character,  hence  the  false  impressions  and  reports  of  words 
or  deeds,  which  are  the  rule,  rather  than  the  exception, 
in  the  world  at  large  ; hence  the  extravagances  of  un- 
disciplined talent,  and  the  narrowness  of  conceited  igno- 
rance ; because,  though  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  view  things 
correctly,  nevertheless  the  busy  mind  will  ever  be  viewing. 
We  cannot  do  without  a view,  and  we  put  up  with  an 
illusion,  when  we  cannot  get  a truth. 

4- 

Now,  observe  how  this  impatience  acts  in  matters  of 
research  and  speculation.  What  happens  to  the  ignorant 
and  hotheaded,  will  take  place  in  the  case  of  every  person 
whose  education  or  pursuits  are  contracted,  whether  they 
be  merely  professional,  merely  scientific,  or  of  whatever 
other  peculiar  complexion.  Men,  whose  life  lies  in  the 
cultivation  of  one  science,  or  the  exercise  of  one  method 
of  thought,  have  no  more  right,  though  they  have  often 
more  ambition,  to  generalize  upon  the  basis  of  their  own 
pursuit  but  beyond  its  range,  than  the  schoolboy  or  the 
ploughman  to  judge  of  a Prime  Minister.  But  they  must 
have  something  to  say  on  every  subject ; habit,  fashion, 
the  public  require  it  of  them  : and,  if  so,  they  can  only 
give  sentence  according  to  their  knowledge.  You  might 
think  this  ought  to  make  such  a person  modest  in  his  enun- 
ciations; not  so:  too  often  it  happens  that,  in  proportion 
to  the  narrowness  of  his  knowledge,  is,  not  his  distrust) 
of  it,  but  the  deep  hold  it  has  upon  him,  his  absolutej 
conviction  of  his  own  conclusions,  and  his  positiveness  it 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Tim  logy.  77 

maintaining  them.  He  has  the  obstinacy  of  the  bigot, 
whom  he  scorns,  without  the  bigot’s  apology,  that  he  has 
been  taught,  as  he  thinks,  his  doctrine  from  heaven. 
Thus  he  becomes,  what  is  commonly  called,  a man  of  one 
idea  ; which  properly  means  a man  of  one  science,  and 
of  the  view,  partly  true,  but  subordinate,  partly  false, 
which  is  all  that  can  proceed  out  of  any  thing  so  partial 
Hence  it  is  that  we  have  the  principles  of  utility,  of 
combination,  of  progress,  of  philanthropy,  or,  in  material 
sciences,  comparative  anatomy,  phrenology,  electricity, 
exalted  into  leading  ideas,  and  keys,  if  not  of  all  know- 
ledge, at  least  of  many  things  more  than  belong  to  them, — 
principles,  all  of  them  true  to  a certain  point,  yet  all 
degenerating  into  error  and  quackery,  because  they  are 
carried  to  excess,  viz.  at  the  point  where  they  require 
interpretation  and  restraint  from  other  quarters,  and 
because  they  are  employed  to  do  what  is  simply  too 
much  for  them,  inasmuch  as  a little  science  is  not  deep 
philosophy. 

Lord  Bacon  has  set  down  the  abuse,  of  which  I am 
speaking,  among  the  impediments  to  the  Advancement 
of  the  Sciences,  when  he  observes  that  men  have  used 
to  infect  their  meditations,  opinions,  and  doctrines,  with 
some  conceits  which  they  have  most  admired,  or  some 
Sciences  which  they  have  most  applied;  and  give  all  things 
else  a tincture  according  to  them  utterly  untrue  and  im- 
proper, ...  So  have  the  alchemists  made  a philo- 
sophy out  of  a few  experiments  of  the  furnace ; and 
Gilbertus,  our  countryman,  hath  made  a philosophy  out 
of  the  observations  of  a lodestone.  So  Cicero,  when, 
reciting  the  several  opinions  of  the  nature  of  the  soul,  he 
found  a musician  that  held  the  soul  was  but  a harmony, 
saith  pleasantly,  ‘ hie  ab  arte  sua  non  recessit,’  ‘ he  was 
true  to  his  art’  But  of  these  conceits  Aristotle  speaketh 


78 


Discourse  IV, 


seriously  and  wisely  when  he  saith,  ‘Qui  respiciunt 
ad  pauca,  de  facili  pronunciant/  ‘ they  who  contemplate 
a few  things  have  no  difficulty  in  deciding/  ” 

5- 

And  now  I have  said  enough  to  explain  the  incon- 
venience which  1 conceive  necessarily  to  result  from  a 
refusal  to  recognize  theological  truth  in  a course  of 
Universal  Knowledge  ; — it  is  not  only  the  loss  of  Theo- 
logy,  it  is  the  perversion  of  other  sciences.  What  it 
unjustly  forfeits,  others  unjustly  seize.  They  have  their 
own  department,  and,  in  going  out  of  it,  attempt  to  do 
what  they  really  cannot  do ; and  that  the  more  mis- 
chievously, because  they  do  teach  what  in  its  place  is 
true,  though  when  out  of  its  place,  perverted  or  carried  to 
excess,  it  is  not  true.  And,  as  every  man  has  not  the 
capacity  of  separating  truth  from  falsehood,  they  per- 
suade the  world  of  what  is  false  by  urging  upon  it  what 
is  true.  Nor  is  it  open  enemies  alone  who  encounter  us 
here,  sometimes  it  is  friends,  sometimes  persons  who,  if 
not  friends,  at  least  have  no  wish  to  oppose  Religion,  and 
are  not  conscious  they  are  doing  so ; and  it  will  carry 
out  my  meaning  more  fully  if  I give  some  illustrations 
of  it. 

As  to  friends,  1 may  take  as  an  instance  the  cultivation 
of  the  Fine  Arts,  Painting,  Sculpture,  Architecture,  to 
which  1 may  add  Music.  These  high  ministers  of  the 
Beautiful  and  the  Noble  are,  it  is  plain,  special  attendants 
and  handmaids  of  Religion  ; but  it  is  equally  plain  that 
they  are  apt  to  forget  their  place,  and,  unless  restrained 
with  a firm  hand,  instead  of  being  servants,  will  aim  at 
becoming  principals.  Here  lies  the  advantage,  in  an 
ecclesiastical  point  of  view,  of  their  more  rudimental 
state,  I mean  of  the  ancient  style  of  architecture,  of  Gothic 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  79 

sculpture  and  painting,  and  of  what  is  called  Gregorian 
music,  that  these  inchoate  sciences  have  so  little  innate 
vigour  and  life  in  them,  that  they  are  in  no  danger  of 
going  out  of  their  place,  and  giving  the  law  to  Religion. 
But  the  case  is  very  different  when  genius  has  breathed 
upon  their  natural  elements,  and  has  developed  them 
into  what  I may  call  intellectual  powers.  When  Paint- 
ing, for  example,  grows  into  the  fulness  of  its  function  as 
a simply  imitative  art,  it  at  once  ceases  to  be  a dependant 
on  the  Church.  It  has  an  end  of  its  own,  and  that  cf 
earth  : Nature  is  its  pattern,  and  the  object  it  pursues  is 
the  beauty  of  Nature,  even  till  it  becomes  an  ideal  beauty, 
but  a natural  beauty  still.  It  cannot  imitate  that  beauty 
of  Angels  and  Saints  which  it  has  never  seen.  At  first, 
indeed,  by  outlines  and  emblems  it  shadowed  out  the 
Invisible,  and  its  want  of  skill  became  the  instrument  of 
reverence  and  modesty  ; but  as  time  went  on  and  it  at- 
tained its  full  dimensions  as  an  art,  it  rather  subjected 
Religion  to  its  own  ends  than  ministered  to  the  ends  of 
Religion,  and  in  its  long  galleries  and  stately  chambers, 
did  but  mingle  adorable  figures  and  sacred  histories  with 
a multitude  of  earthly,  not  to  say  unseemly  forms,  which 
the  Art  had  created,  borrowing  withal  a colouring  and  a 
character  from  that  bad  company.  Not  content  with 
neutral  ground  for  its  development,  it  was  attracted  by 
the  sublimity  of  divine  subjects  to  ambitious  and  hazar- 
dous essays.  Without  my  saying  a word  more,  you  will 
clearly  understand.  Gentlemen,  that  under  these  circum- 
stances Religion  was  bound  to  exert  itself,  that  the  world 
might  not  gain  an  advantage  over  it.  Put  out  of  sight 
the  severe  teaching  of  Catholicism  in  the  scnools  of  Paint- 
ing, as  men  now  would  put  it  aside  in  their  philosophical 
studies,  and  in  no  long  time  you  would  have  the  hierarchy 
of  the  Church,  the  Anchorite  and  Virgin-martyr,  the 


8o 


Discourse  IV. 


Confessor  and  the  Doctor,  the  Angelic  Hosts,  the 
Mother  of  God,  the  Crucifix,  the  Eternal  Trinity,  sup- 
planted by  a sort  of  pagan  mythology  m the  guise  o 
sacred  names,  by  a creation  indeed  of  high  genius,  ot 
intense,  and  dazzling,  and  soul-absorbing  beauty,  m 
which,  however,  there  was  nothing  which  subserved  e 
cause  of  Religion,  nothing  on  the  other  hand  which  did 
not  directly  or  indirectly  minister  to  corrupt  nature  and 
the  powers  of  darkness. 

6. 

The  art  of  Painting,  however,  is  peculiar : Music  and 
Architecture  are  more  ideal,  and  their  respective  arche- 
types, even  if  not  supernatural,  at  least  are  abstract  an 
unearthly  ; and  yet  what  I have  been  observing  about 
Painting,  holds,  I think,  analogously,  in  the  marvellous 
development  which  Musical  Science  has  undergone  m 
the  last  century.  Doubtless  here  too  the  highest  genius 
may  be  made  subservient  to  Religion  ; here  too,  sti  1 
more  simply  than  in  the  case  of  Painting,  the  Science 
has  a field  of  its  own,  perfectly  innocent,  into  which 
Religion  does  not  and  need  not  enter ; on  the  other 
hand  here  also,  in  the  case  of  Music  as  of  Painting,  it  is 
certain  that  Religion  must  be  alive  and  on  the  defensive 
for,  if  its  servants  sleep,  a potent  enchantment  will  stea 
over  it.  Music,  I suppose,  though  this  is  not  the  piace 
to  enlarge  upon  it,  has  an  object  of  its  own  ; as  mathe- 
matical science  also,  it  is  the  expression  of  ideas  greater 
and  more  profound  than  any  in  the  visible  world,  ideas, 
which  centre  indeed  in  Him  whom  Catholicism  mani- 
fests who  is  the  seat  of  all  beauty,  order,  and  perfection 
whatever,  still  ideas  after  all  which  are  not  those  on 
which  Revelation  directly  and  principally  fixes  our  gaz  . 
If  then  a great  master  in  this  mysterious  science  (if  1 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Iheology,  8 1 

may  speak  of  matters  which  seem  to  lie  out  of  my  own 
province)  throws  himself  on  his  own  gift,  trusts  its  in- 
spirations, and  absorbs  himself  in  those  thoughts  which, 
though  they  come  to  him  in  the  way  of  nature,  belong 
to  things  above  nature,  it  is  obvious  he  will  neglect 
everything  else.  Rising  in  his  strength,  he  will  break 
through  the  trammels  of  words,  he  will  scatter  human 
voices,  even  the  sweetest,  to  the  winds ; he  will  be  borne 
upon  nothing  less  than  the  fullest  flood  of  sounds  which 
art  has  enabled  him  to  draw  from  mechanical  contri- 
vances ; he  will  go  forth  as  a giant,  as  far  as  ever  his  in- 
struments can  reach,  starting  from  their  secret  depths 
fresh  and  fresh  elements  of  beauty  and  grandeur  as  he 
goes,  and  pouring  them  together  into  still  more  marvel- 
lous and  rapturous  combinations  ; — and  well  indeed  and 
lawfully,  while  he  keeps  to  that  line  which  is  his  own ; 
but,  should  he  happen  to  be  attracted,  as  he  well  may, 
by  the  sublimity,  so  congenial  to  him,  of  the  Catholic 
doctrine  and  ritual,  should  he  engage  in  sacred  themes, 
should  he  resolve  by  means  of  his  art  to  do  honour  to 
the  Mass,  or  the  Divine  Office, — (he  cannot  have  a more 
pious,  a better  purpose,  and  Religion  will  gracefully 
accept  what  he  gracefully  offers  ; but) — is  it  not  certain, 
from  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  that  he  will  be 
carried  on  rather  to  use  Religion  than  to  minister  to  it, 
unless  Religion  is  strong  on  its  own  ground,  and  reminds 
him  that,  if  he  would  do  honour  to  the  highest  of 
subjects,  he  must  make  himself  its  scholar,  must  humbly 
follow  the  thoughts  given  him,  and  must  aim  at  the 
glory,  not  of  his  own  gift,  but  of  the  Great  Giver  ? 

7 

As  to  Architecture,  it  is  a remark,  if  I recollect  aright 
both  of  Fenelon  and  Berkeley,  men  so  different,  that  it 

6 


Discourse  IV. 


S2 

carries  more  with  it  even  than  the  names  of  those  cele- 
brated men,  that  the  Gothic  style  is  not  as  simple  as 
befits  ecclesiastical  structures.  I understand  this  to  be 
a similar  judgment  to  that  which  I have  been  passing 
on  the  cultivation  of  Painting  and  Music.  For  myself, 
certainly  I think  that  that  style  which,  whatever  be  its 
origin,  is  called  Gothic,  is  endowed  with  a profound  and 
a commanding  beauty,  such  as  no  other  style  possesses 
with  which  we  are  acquainted,  and  which  probably  the 
Church  will  not  see  surpassed  till  it  attain  to  the  Celestial 
City.  No  other  architecture,  now  used  for  sacred  pur- 
poses, seems  to  be  the  growth  of  an  idea,  whereas  the 
Gothic  style  is  as  harmonious  and  as  intellectual  as  it  is 
graceful.  But  this  feeling  should  not  blind  us,  rather  it 
should  awaken  us,  to  the  danger  lest  what  is  really  a 
divine  gift  be  incautiously  used  as  an  end  rather  than  as 
a means.  It  is  surely  quite  within  the  bounds  of  pos- 
sibility, that,  as  the  renaissance  three  centuries  ago 
carried  away  its  own  day,  in  spite  of  the  Church,  into 
excesses  in  literature  and  art,  so  that  revival  of  an  almost 
forgotten  architecture,  which  is  at  present  taking  place 
in  our  own  countries,  in  France,  and  in  Germany,  may 
in  some  way  or  other  run  away  with  us  into  this  or  that 
error,  unless  we  keep  a watch  over  its  course.  I am  not 
speaking  of  Ireland  ; but  to  English  Catholics  at  least  it 
would  be  a serious  evil,  if  it  came  as  the  emblem  and 
advocate  of  a past  ceremonial  or  an  extinct  nationalism. 
We  are  not  living  in  an  age  of  wealth  and  loyalty,  of 
pomp  and  stateliness,  of  time-honoured  establishments, 
of  pilgrimage  and  penance,  of  hermitages  and  convents 
in  the  wild,  and  of  fervent  populations  supplying  the 
want  of  education  by  love,  and  apprehending  in  form 
and  symbol  what  they  cannot  read  in  books.  Our  rules 
and  our  rubrics  have  been  altered  now  to  meet  the 


Bearmg  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  83 


times,  and  hence  an  obsolete  discipline  may  be  a 
present  heresy. 


8. 

I have  been  pointing  out  how  the  Fine  Arts  may  pre- 
judice Religion,  by  laying  down  the  law  in  cases  where 
they  should  be  subservient.  The  illustration  is  analo- 
gous rather  than  strictly  proper  to  my  subject,  yet  I 
think  it  is  to  the  point.  If  then  the  most  loyal  and 
dutiful  children  of  the  Church  must  deny  themselves, 
and  do  deny  themselves,  when  they  would  sanctify  to  a 
heavenly  purpose  sciences  as  sublime  and  as  divine  as 
any  which  are  cultivated  by  fallen  man,  it  is  not  wonder- 
ful, when  we  turn  to  sciences  of  a different  character,  of 
which  the  object  is  tangible  and  material,  and  the 
principles  belong  to  the  Reason,  not  to  the  Imagination, 
that  we  should  find  their  disciples,  if  disinclined  to  the 
Catholic  Faith,  acting  the  part  of  opponents  to  it,  and 
that,  as  may  often  happen,  even  against  their  will  and 
intention.  Many  men  there  are,  who,  devoted  to  one 
particular  subject  of  thought,  and  making  its  principles 
the  measure  of  all  things,  become  enemies  to  Revealed 
Religion  before  they  know  it,  and,  only  as  time  proceeds, 
are  aware  of  their  own  state  of  mind.  These,  if  they 
are  writers  or  lecturers,  while  in  this  state  of  unconscious 
or  semi-conscious  unbelief,  scatter  infidel  principles  under 
the  garb  and  colour  of  Christianity ; and  this,  simply 
because  they  have  made  their  own  science,  whatever  it 
is.  Political  Economy,  or  Geology,  or  Astronomy,  to  the 
neglect  of  Theology,  the  centre  of  all  truth,  and  view 
every  part  or  the  chief  parts  of  knowledge  as  if  de- 
veloped from  it,  and  to  be  tested  and  determined  by  its 
principles.  Others,  though  conscious  to  themselves  of 
their  anti-christian  opinions,  have  too  much  good  feeling 


Discourse  IV, 


84 

and  good  taste  to  obtrude  them  upon  the  world.  They 
neither  wish  to  shock  people,  nor  to  earn  for  themselves 
a confessorship  which  brings  with  it  no  gain.  They 
know  the  strength  of  prejudice,  and  the  penalty  of  in- 
novation ; they  wish  to  go  through  life  quietly  ; they 
scorn  polemics  ; they  shrink,  as  from  a real  humiliation, 
from  being  mixed  up  in  religious  controversy ; they  are 
ashamed  of  the  very  name.  However,  they  have  had 
occasion  at  some  time  to  publish  on  some  literary  or 
scientific  subject ; they  have  wished  to  give  no  offence  ; 
but  after  all,  to  their  great  annoyance,  they  find  when 
they  least  expect  it,  or  when  they  have  taken  consider- 
able pains  to  avoid  it,  that  they  have  roused  by  their 
publication  what  they  would  style  the  bigoted  and 
bitter  hostility  of  a party.  This  misfortune  is  easily 
conceivable,  and  has  befallen  many  a man.  Before  he 
knows  where  he  is,  a cry  is  raised  on  all  sides  of  him  ; 
and  so  little  does  he  know  what  we  may  call  the  lie  of 
the  land,  that  his  attempts  at  apology  perhaps  only 
make  matters  worse.  In  other  words,  an  exclusive  line 
of  study  has  led  him,  whether  he  will  or  no,  to  run 
counter  to  the  principles  of  Religion  ; which  principles 
he  has  never  made  his  landmarks,  and  which,  whatever 
might  be  their  effect  upon  himself,  at  least  would  have 
warned  him  against  practising  upon  the  faith  of  others, 
had  they  been  authoritatively  held  up  before  him. 

9- 

Instances  of  this  kind  are  far  from  uncommon.  Men 
who  are  old  enough,  will  remember  the  trouble  which 
came  upon  a person,  eminent  as  a professional  man  in 
London  even  at  that  distant  day,  and  still  more  eminent 
since,  in  consequence  of  his  publishing  a book  in  which 
he  so  treated  the  subject  of  Comparative  Anatomy  as 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  8 5 

to  seem  to  deny  the  immateriality  of  the  soul.  I speak 
here  neither  as  excusing  nor  reprobating  sentiments 
about  which  I have  not  the  means  of  forming  a judg- 
ment ; all  indeed  I have  heard  of  him  makes  me  men- 
tion him  with  interest  and  respect ; anyhow  of  this  I 
am  sure,  that  if  there  be  a calling  which  feels  its  position 
and  its  dignity  to  lie  in  abstaining  from  controversy  and 
in  cultivating  kindly  feelings  with  men  of  all  opinions, 
it  is  the  medical  profession,  and  I cannot  believe  that 
the  person  in  question  would  purposely  have  raised  the 
indignation  and  incurred  the  censure  of  the  religious 
public.  What  then  must  have  been  his  fault  or  mistake, 
but  that  he  unsuspiciously  threw  himself  upon  his  own 
particular  science,  which  is  of  a material  character,  and 
allowed  it  to  carry  him  forward  into  a subject-matter, 
where  it  had  no  right  to  give  the  law,  viz.,  that  of  spiri- 
tual beings,  which  directly  belongs  to  the  science  of 
Theology  ? 

Another  instance  occurred  at  a later  date.  A living 
dignitary  of  the  Established  Church  wrote  a History  of 
the  Jews;  in  which,  with  what  I consider  at  least  bad 
judgment,  he  took  an  external  view  of  it,  and  hence  was 
led  to  assimilate  it  as  nearly  as  possible  to  secular  his- 
tory. A great  sensation  was  the  consequence  among 
the  members  of  his  own  communion,  from  which  he  still 
suffers.  Arguing  from  the  dislike  and  contempt  of  pole- 
mical demonstrations  which  that  accomplished  writer  has 
ever  shown,  I must  conclude  that  he  was  simply  betrayed 
into  a false  step  by  the  treacherous  fascination  of  what 
is  called  the  Philosophy  of  History,  which  is  good  in  its 
place,  but  can  scarcely  be  applied  in  cases  where  the 
Almighty  has  superseded  the  natural  laws  of  society  and 
history.  From  this  he  would  have  been  saved,  had  he 
been  a Catholic ; but  in  the  Establishment  he  knew  of 


86 


Discourse  IV. 


no  teaching,  to  which  he  was  bound  to  defer,  which 
might  rule  that  to  be  false  which  attracted  him  by  its 
speciousness. 

lO. 

I will  now  take  an  instance  from  another  science,  and 
will  use  more  words  about  it.  Political  Economy  is  the 
science,  I suppose,  of  wealth, — a science  simply  lawful 
and  useful,  for  it  is  no  sin  to  make  money,  any  more 
than  it  is  a sin  to  seek  honour  ; a science  at  the  same 
time  dangerous  and  leading  to  occasions  of  sin,  as  is  the 
pursuit  of  honour  too  ; and  in  consequence,  if  studied  by 
itself,  and  apart  from  the  control  of  Revealed  Truth, 
sure  to  conduct  a speculator  to  unchristian  conclusions. 
Holy  Scripture  tells  us  distinctly,  that  covetousness,'’ 
or  more  literally  the  love  of  money,  is  the  root  of  all 
evils  ; ” and  that  they  that  would  become  rich  fall  into 
temptation;”  and  that  ‘‘hardly  shall  they  that  have 
riches  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God and  after  draw- 
ing the  picture  of  a wealthy  and  flourishing  people,  it 
adds,  “They  have  called  the  people  happy  that  hath 
these  things  ; but  happy  is  that  people  whose  God  is  the 
Lord  : ” — while  on  the  other  hand  it  says  with  equal 
distinctness,  “ If  any  will  not  work,  neither  let  him  eat;” 
and,  “If  any  man  have  not  care  of  his  own,  and  espe- 
cially of  those  of  his  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith, 
and  is  worse  than  an  infidel.”  These  opposite  injunc- 
tions are  summed  up  in  the  wise  man’s  prayer,  who  says, 
“ Give  me  neither  beggary  nor  riches,  give  me  only  the 
necessaries  of  life.”  With  this  most  precise  view  of  a 
Christian’s  duty,  viz.,  to  labour  indeed,  but  to  labour  for 
a competency  for  himself  and  his,  and  to  be  jealous  of 
wealth,  whether  personal  or  national,  the  holy  Fathers 
are,  as  might  be  expected,  in  simple  accordance. 
“Judas,”  says  St.  Chrysostom,  “was  with  Him  who 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  87 

knew  not  where  to  lay  His  head,  yet  could  not  restrain 
himself ; and  how  canst  thou  hope  to  escape  the  con- 
tagion without  anxious  effort  ? ''  It  is  ridiculous,”  says 

St.  Jerome,  ‘‘to  call  it  idolatry  to  offer  to  the  creature 
the  grains  of  incense  that  are  due  to  God,  and  not  to 
call  it  so,  to  offer  the  whole  service  of  one’s  life  to  the 
creature.”  “There  is  not  a trace  of  justice  in  that 
heart,”  says  St.  Leo,  “in  which  the  love  of  gain  has 
made  itself  a dwelling.”  The  same  thing  is  emphatically 
taught  us  by  the  counsels  of  perfection,  and  by  every 
holy  monk  and  nun  anywhere,  who  has  ever  embraced 
them  ; but  it  is  needless  to  collect  testimonies,  when 
Scripture  is  so  clear. 

Now,  observe.  Gentlemen,  my  drift  in  setting  Scripture 
and  the  Fathers  over  against  Political  Economy.  Of 
course  if  there  is  a science  of  wealth,  it  must  give  rules 
for  gaining  wealth  and  disposing  of  wealth,  and  can  do  no- 
thing more  ; it  cannot  itself  declare  that  it  is  a subordi- 
nate science,  that  its  end  is  not  the  ultimate  end  of  all 
things,  and  that  its  conclusions  are  only  hypothetical, 
depending  on  its  premisses,  and  liable  to  be  overruled 
by  a higher  teaching.  I do  not  then  blame  the  Political 
Economist  for  anything  which  follows  from  the  very 
idea  of  his  science,  from  the  very  moment  that  it  is 
recognized  as  a science.  He  must  of  course  direct  his 
inquiries  towards  his  end  ; but  then  at  the  same  time  it 
must  be  recollected,  that  so  far  he  is  not  practical,  but 
only  pursues  an  abstract  study,  and  is  busy  himself  in 
establishing  logical  conclusions  from  indisputable  pre- 
misses. Given  that  wealth  is  to  be  sought,  this  and 
that  is  the  method  of  gaining  it.  This  is  the  extent  to 
which  a Political  Economist  has  a right  to  go  ; he  has 
no  right  to  determine  that  wealth  is  at  any  rate  to  be 
sought,  or  that  it  is  the  way  to  be  virtuous  and  the  price 


88 


Discourse  IV. 


of  happiness  ; I say,  this  is  to  pass  the  bounds  of  his 
science,  independent  of  the  question  whether  he  be 
right  or  wrong  in  so  determining,  for  he  is  only  con- 
cerned with  an  hypothesis. 

To  take  a parallel  case  : — a physician  may  tell  you, 
that  if  you  are  to  preserve  your  health,  you  must  give 
up  your  employment  and  retire  to  the  country.  He 
distinctly  says  if that  is  all  in  which  he  is  concerned, 
he  is  no  judge  whether  there  are  objects  dearer  to  you, 
more  urgent  upon  you,  than  the  preservation  of  your 
health  ; he  does  not  enter  into  your  circumstances,  your 
duties,  your  liabilities,  the  persons  dependent  on  you  , 
he  knows  nothing  about  what  is  advisable  or  what  is 
not ; he  only  says,  ‘‘  I speak  as  a physician  ; if  you 
would  be  well,  give  up  your  profession,  your  trade, 
your  office,  whatever  it  is.”  However  he  may  wish  it,  it 
would  be  impertinent  in  him  to  say  more,  unless  indeed 
he  spoke,  not  as  a physician  but  as  a friend  ; and  it 
would  be  extravagant,  if  he  asserted  that  bodily  health 
was  the  summum  bonum,  and  that  no  one  could  be 
virtuous  whose  animal  system  was  not  in  good  order. 

II. 

But  now  let  us  turn  to  the  teaching  of  the  actual 
Political  Economist,  in  his  present  fashionable  shape.  I 
will  take  a very  favourable  instance  of  him  : he  shall  be 
represented  by  a gentleman  of  high  character,  whose 
religious  views  are  sufficiently  guaranteed  to  us  by  his 
being  the  special  choice,  in  this  department  of  science, 
of  a University  removed  more  than  any  other  Protes- 
tant body  of  the  day  from  sordid  or  unchristian  princi- 
ples on  the  subject  of  money-making.  I say,  if  there 
be  a place  where  Political  Economy  would  be  kept  in 
order,  and  would  not  be  suffered  to  leave  the  high  road 


Bearing  of  Other  Kfiowledge  on  Theology,  8g 

and  ride  across  the  pastures  and  the  gardens  dedicated 
to  other  studies,  it  is  the  University  of  Oxford.  And  if 
a man  could  anywhere  be  found  who  would  have  too 
much  good  taste  to  offend  the  religious  feeling  of  the 
place,  or  to  say  any  thing  which  he  would  himself  allow 
to  be  inconsistent  with  Revelation,  I conceive  it  is  the 
person  whose  temperate  and  well-considered  composi- 
tion, as  it  would  be  generally  accounted,  I am  going  to 
offer  to  your  notice.  Nor  did  it  occasion  any  excite- 
ment whatever  on  the  part  of  the  academical  or  the  re- 
ligious public,  as  did  the  instances  which  I have  hitherto 
been  adducing.  I am  representing  then  the  science  of 
Political  Economy,  in  its  independent  or  unbridled 
action,  to  great  advantage,  when  I select,  as  its  specimen, 
the  Inaugural  Lecture  upon  it,  delivered  in  the  Univer- 
sity in  question,  by  its  first  Professor.  Yet  with  all  these 
circumstances  in  its  favour,  you  will  soon  see.  Gentlemen, 
into  what  extravagance,  for  so  I must  call  it,  a grave 
lawyer  is  led  in  praise  of  his  chosen  science,  merely 
from  the  circumstance  that  he  has  fixed  his  mind  upon 
it,  till  he  has  forgotten  there  are  subjects  of  thought 
higher  and  more  heavenly  than  it.  You  will  find  be- 
yond mistake,  that  it  is  his  object  to  recommend  the 
science  of  wealth,  by  claiming  for  it  an  ethical  quality, 
viz.,  by  extolling  it  as  the  road  to  virtue  and  happi- 
ness, whatever  Scripture  and  holy  men  may  say  to  the 
contrary. 

He  begins  by  predicting  of  Political  Economy,  that 
in  the  course  of  a very  few  years,  it  will  rank  in  public 
estimation  among  the  first  of  moral  sciences  in  interest 
and  in  utility.”  Then  he  explains  most  lucidly  its 
objects  and  duties,  considered  as  ‘‘the  science  which 
teaches  in  what  wealth  consists,  by  what  agents  it  is 
produced,  and  according  to  what  laws  it  is  distributed, 


90 


Discourse  IV. 


and  what  are  the  institutions  and  customs  by  which  pro- 
duction may  be  facilitated  and  distribution  regulated,  so 
as  to  give  the  largest  possible  amount  of  wealth  to  each 
individual/’  And  he  dwells  upon  the  interest  which 
attaches  to  the  inquiry,  whether  England  has  run  her 
full  career  of  wealth  and  improvement,  but  stands  safe 
where  she  is,  or  whether  to  remain  stationary  is  impos- 
sible/’ After  this  he  notices  a certain  objection,  which 
I shall  set  before  you  in  his  own  words,  as  they  will 
furnish  me  with  the  illustration  I propose. 

This  objection,  he  says,  is,  that,  ‘^as  the  pursuit  of 
wealth  is  one  of  the  humblest  of  human  occupations, 
far  inferior  to  the  pursuit  of  virtue,  or  of  knov/ledge,  or 
even  of  reputation,  and  as  the  possession  of  wealth  is 
not  necessarily  joined, — perhaps  it  will  be  said,  is  not 
conducive, — to  happiness,  a science,  of  which  the  only 
subject  is  wealth,  cannot  claim  to  rank  as  the  first,  or 
nearly  the  first,  of  moral  sciences.”*  Certainly,  to  an 
enthusiast  in  behalf  of  any  science  whatever,  the  temp- 
tation is  great  to  meet  an  objection  urged  against  its 
dignity  and  worth  ; however,  from  the  very  form  of  it, 
such  an  objection  cannot  receive  a satisfactory  answer 
by  means  of  the  science  itself.  It  is  an  objection  exter- 
nal to  the  science,  and  reminds  us  of  the  truth  of  Lord 
Bacon’s  remark,  No  perfect  discovery  can  be  made 
upon  a flat  or  a level ; neither  is  it  possible  to  discover 
the  more  remote  and  deeper  parts  of  any  science,  if  you 
stand  upon  the  level  of  the  science,  and  ascend  not  to  a 
higher  science.”  “I*  The  objection  that  Political  Economy 
is  inferior  to  the  science  of  virtue,  or  does  not  con- 
duce to  happiness,  is  an  ethical  or  theological  objection; 
the  question  of  its  rank  ” belongs  to  that  Architectonic 

* Introd.  Lecture  on  Pol.  Econ.  pp.  ii,  13. 

f Advancement  of  Learning. 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  9 1 

Science  or  Philosophy,  whatever  it  be,  which  is  itself  the 
arbiter  of  all  truth,  and  which  disposes  of  the  claims 
and  arranges  the  places  of  all  the  departments  of  know- 
ledge which  man  is  able  to  master.  I say,  when  an 
opponent  of  a particular  science  asserts  that  it  does 
not  conduce  to  happiness,  and  much  more  when  its 
champion  contends  in  reply  that  it  certainly  does  con- 
duce to  virtue,  as  this  author  proceeds  to  contend,  the 
obvious  question  which  occurs  to  one  to  ask  is,  what 
does  Religion,  what  does  Revelation,  say  on  the  point } 
Political  Economy  must  not  be  allowed  to  give  judg- 
ment in  its  own  favour,  but  must  come  before  a higher 
tribunal.  The  objection  is  an  appeal  to  the  Theologian; 
however,  the  Professor  does  not  so  view  the  matter  ; he 
does  not  consider  it  a question  for  Philosophy  ; nor  in- 
deed on  the  other  hand  a question  for  Political  Economy ; 
not  a question  for  Science  at  all;  but  for  Private  Judg- 
ment,— so  he  answers  it  himself,  and  as  follows : 

12. 

“My  answer,’'  he  says,  “is,  first,  that  the  pursuit  of 
wealth,  that  is,  the  endeavour  to  accumulate  the  means  of 
future  subsistence  and  enjoyment,  is,  to  the  mass  of 
mankind,  the  great  source  of  moral  improvement.”  Now 
observe,  Gentlemen,  how  exactly  this  bears  out  what  I have 
been  saying.  It  is  just  so  far  true,  as  to  be  able  to  instil 
what  is  false,  far  as  the  author  was  from  any  such  design. 
I grant,  then,  that,  ordinarily,  beggary  is  not  the  means  of 
moral  improvement ; and  that  the  orderly  habits  which 
attend  upon  the  hot  pursuit  of  gain,  not  only  may  effect 
an  external  decency,  but  may  at  least  shelter  the  soul 
from  the  temptations  of  vice.  Moreover,  these  habits  of 
good  order  guarantee  regularity  in  a family  or  household, 
and  thus  are  accidentally  the  means  of  good  ; moreover, 


92 


Discourse  IV. 


they  lead  to  the  education  of  its  younger  branches,  and 
they  thus  accidentally  provide  the  rising  generation  with 
a virtue  or  a truth  which  the  present  has  not : but  with- 
out going  into  these  considerations,  further  than  to  allow 
them  generally,  and  under  circumstances,  let  us  rather 
contemplate  what  the  author’s  direct  assertion  is.  He 
says,'*  the  ^nd^dLWOxxx  to  accumulate^'  the  words  should  be 
weighed,  and  for  what.?  for  enjoyme7it ; " — to  accumu- 
late the  means  of  future  subsistence  and  enjoyment,  is,  to 
the  mass  of  mankind,  the  great  source,”  not  merely  a 
source,  but  the  great  source,  and  of  what .?  of  social  and 
political  progress  .? — such  an  answer  would  have  been 
more  within  the  limits  of  his  art, — no,  but  of  something 
individual  and  personal,  of  moj^al  improvementr  The 
soul,  in  the  case  of  ‘‘  the  mass  of  mankind,”  improves  in 
moral  excellence  from  this  more  than  any  thing  else,  viz., 
from  heaping  up  the  means  of  enjoying  this  world  in 
time  to  come ! I really  should  on  every  account  be 
sorry.  Gentlemen,  to  exaggerate,  but  indeed  one  is  taken 
by  surprise,  one  is  startled,  on  meeting  with  so  very 
categorical  a contradiction  of  our  Lord,  St.  Paul,  St. 
Chrysostom,  St.  Leo,  and  all  Saints. 

‘‘No  institution,”  he  continues,  “could  be  more  bene- 
ficial to  the  morals  of  the  lower  orders,  that  is,  to  at  least 
nine-tenths  of  the  whole  body  of  any  people,  than  one 
which  should  increase  their  power  and  their  wish  to 
accumulate ; none  more  mischievous  than  one  which 
should  diminish  their  motives  and  means  to  save.”  No 
institution  more  beneficial  than  one  which  should  increase 
the  wish  to  accumulate ! then  Christianity  is  not  one  of 
such  beneficial  institutions,  for  it  expressly  says,  “ Lay 
not  up  to  yourselves  treasures  on  earth  ...  for  where 
thy  treasure  is,  there  is  thy  heart  also  no  institution 
more  mischievous  than  one  which  should  diminish  the 


Bearmg  of  Other  Krwwledge  on  Theology.  93 

Tnotives  to  save!  then  Christianity  is  one  of  such  mischiefs, 
for  the  inspired  text  proceeds,  ''  Lay  up  to  yourselves 
treasures  in  heaven,  where  neither  the  rust  nor  the  moth 
doth  consume,  and  where  thieves  do  not  dig  through, 
nor  steal.” 

But  it  is  not  enough  that  morals  and  happiness  are 
made  to  depend  on  gain  and  accumulation  ; the  practice 
of  Religion  is  ascribed  to  these  causes  also,  and  in  the 
following  way.  Wealth  depends  upon  the  pursuit  of 
wealth ; education  depends  upon  wealth ; knowledge 
depends  on  education  ; and  Religion  depends  on  know- 
ledge ; therefore  Religion  depends  on  the  pursuit  of 
wealth.  He  says,  after  speaking  of  a poor  and  savage 
people,  “ Such  a population  must  be  grossly  ignorant. 
The  desire  of  knowledge  is  one  of  the  last  results 
of  refinement ; it  requires  in  general  to  have  been  im- 
planted in  the  mind  during  childhood  ; and  it  is  absurd 
to  suppose  that  persons  thus  situated  would  have  the 
power  or  the  will  to  devote  much  to  the  education  of 
their  children.  A further  consequence  is  the  absence 
of  all  real  religion  ; for  the  religion  of  the  grossly  igno- 
rant, if  they  have  any,  scarcely  ever  amounts  to  more 
than  a debasing  superstition.”*  The  pursuit  of  gain 
then  is  the  basis  of  virtue,  religion,  happiness ; though 
it  is  all  the  while,  as  a Christian  knows,  the  “ root 
of  all  evils,”  and  the  ‘‘  poor  on  the  contrary  are  blessed, 
for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  God.” 

As  to  the  argument  contained  in  the  logical  Sorites 
which  I have  been  drawing  out,  I anticipated  just  now 
what  I should  say  to  it  in  reply.  I repeat,  doutbtless 

beggary,”  as  the  wise  man  says,  is  not  desirable  ; doubt- 
less, if  men  will  not  work,  they  should  not  eat ; there  is 
doubtless  a sense  in  which  it  may  be  said  that  mere 
* Intr.  Lect.,  p.  i6. 


94 


Discourse  TV. 


social  or  political  virtue  tends  to  moral  and  religious 
excellence  ; but  the  sense  needs  to  be  defined  and  the 
statement  to  be  kept  within  bounds.  This  is  the  very 
point  on  which  I am  all  along  insisting.  I am  not 
denying,  I am  granting,  I am  assuming,  that  there  is 
reason  and  truth  in  the  ‘‘  leading  ideas,”  as  they  are 
called,  and  large  views  ” of  scientific  men ; I only 
say  that,  though  they  speak  truth,  they  do  not  speak  the 
whole  truth  ; that  they  speak  a narrow  truth,  and  think  it 
a broad  truth  ; that  their  deductions  must  be  compared 
with  other  truths,  which  are  acknowledged  to  be  truths, 
in  order  to  verify,  complete,  and  correct  them.  They  say 
what  is  true,  exceptis  excipiendis ; what  is  true,  but 
requires  guarding ; true,  but  must  not  be  ridden  too 
hard,  or  made  what  is  called  a hobby ; true,  but  not  the 
measure  of  all  things ; true,  but  if  thus  inordinately, 
extravagantly,  ruinously  carried  out,  in  spite  of  other 
sciences,  in  spite  of  Theology,  sure  to  become  but  a 
great  bubble,  and  to  burst. 


13- 

I am  getting  to  the  end  of  this  Discourse,  before  I 
have  noticed  one  tenth  part  of  the  instances  with  which 
I might  illustrate  the  subject  of  it.  Else  I should  have 
wished  especially  to  have  dwelt  upon  the  not  unfrequent 
perversion  which  occurs  of  antiquarian  and  historical  re- 
search, to  the  prejudice  of  Theology.  It  is  undeniable 
that  the  records  of  former  ages  are  of  primary  import- 
ance in  determining  Catholic  doctrine ; it  is  undeniable 
also  that  there  is  a silence  or  a contrariety  abstractedly 
conceivable  in  those  records,  as  to  an  alleged  portion  of 
that  doctrine,  which  would  be  sufficient  to  invalidate  its 
claims  on  our  acceptance  ; but  it  is  quite  as  undeniable 
that  the  existing  documentary  testimony  to  Catholicism 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology,  95 

and  Christianity  may  be  so  unduly  valued  as  to  be 
made  the  absolute  measure  of  Revelation,  as  if  no  part 
of  theological  teaching  were  true  which  cannot  bring  its 
express  text,  as  it  is  called,  from  Scripture,  and  authori- 
ties from  the  Fathers  or  profhne  writers, — whereas  there 
are  numberless  facts  in  past  times  which  we  cannot  deny, 
for  they  are  indisputable,  though  history  is  silent  about 
them.  I suppose,  on  this  score,  we  ought  to  deny  that 
the  round  towers  of  this  country  had  any  origin,  because 
history  does  not  disclose  it ; or  that  any  individual  came 
from  Adam  who  cannot  produce  the  table  of  his  an- 
cestry. Yet  Gibbon  argues  against  the  darkness  at  the 
Passion,  from  the  accident  that  it  is  not  mentioned  by 
Pagan  historians  : — as  well  might  he  argue  against  the 
existence  of  Christianity  itself  in  the  first  century,  be- 
cause Seneca,  Pliny,  Plutarch,  the  Jewish  Mishna,  and 
other  authorities  are  silent  about  it.  Protestants  argue 
in  a parallel  way  against  Transubstantiation,  and  Arians 
against  our  Lord’s  Divinity,  viz.,  on  the  ground  that 
extant  writings  of  certain  Fathers  do  not  witness  those 
doctrines  to  their  satisfaction  : — as  well  might  they  say 
that  Christianity  was  not  spread  by  the  Twelve  Apostles, 
because  we  know  so  little  of  their  labours.  The  evidence 
of  History,  I say,  is  invaluable  in  its  place  ; but,  if  it  as- 
sumes to  be  the  sole  means  of  gaining  Religious  Truth, 
it  goes  beyond  its  place.  We  are  putting  it  to  a larger 
office  than  it  can  undertake,  if  we  countenance  the 
usurpation ; and  we  are  turning  a true  guide  and  bless- 
ing into  a source  of  inexplicable  difficulty  and  inter- 
minable doubt. 

And  so  of  other  sciences  : just  as  Comparative  Ana- 
tomy, Political  Economy,  the  Philosophy  of  History,  and 
the  Science  of  Antiquities  may  be  and  are  turned 
against  Religion,  by  being  taken  by  themselves,  as  I 


96 


Discourse  IV 


have  been  showing,  so  a like  mistake  may  befall  any 
other.  Grammar,  for  instance,  at  first  sight  does  not 
appear  to  admit  of  a perversion  ; yet  Horne  Tooke 
made  it  the  vehicle  of  his  peculiar  scepticism.  Law 
would  seem  to  have  enough  to  do  with  its  own  clients,  and 
their  affairs  ; and  yet  Mr.  Bentham  made  a treatise  on 
Judicial  Proofs  a covert  attack  upon  the  miracles  of 
Revelation.  And  in  like  manner  Physiology  may  deny 
moral  evil  and  human  responsibility  ; Geology  may  deny 
Moses ; and  Logic  may  deny  the  Holy  Trinity  ; * and 
other  sciences,  now  rising  into  notice,  are  or  will  be 
victims  of  a similar  abuse. 


14. 

And  now  to  sum  up  what  I have  been  saying  in  a few 
words.  My  object,  it  is  plain,  has  been — not  to  show 
that  Secular  Science  in  its  various  departments  may  take 
up  a position  hostile  to  Theology ; — this  is  rather  the 
basis  of  the  objection  with  which  I opened  this  Discourse  ; 
— but  to  point  out  the  cause  of  an  hostility  to  which  all 
parties  will  bear  witness.  I have  been  insisting  then  on 
this,  that  the  hostility  in  question,  when  it  occurs,  is 
coincident  with  an  evident  deflection  or  exorbitance  of 
Science  from  its  proper  course ; and  that  this  exorbi- 
tance is  sure  to  take  place,  almost  from  the  necessity  of 
the  case,  if  Theology  be  not  present  to  defend  its  own 
boundaries  and  to  hinder  the  encroachment  The  humajL, 
rnind  cannot  keep  from  speculating  and  systematizing  ; 
and  if  Theology  is  not  allowed  to  occupy  its  own  territory,^ 
adjacent  sciences,  nay,  sciences  which  are  quite  foreign  to 
The6rogy  ,lviIl  take  possession  of  it.  And  this  occupatioa 
is  proved  to  be  a usurpation  by  this  circumstance,  that" 
these  foreign  sciences  will  assume  certain  principles  as 
* Vid.  Abelard,  for  instance. 


Bearing  of  Other  Knowledge  on  Theology.  97 

true,  and  act  upon  them,  which  they  neither  have 
authority  to  lay  down  themselves,  nor  appeal  to  any 
other  higher  science  to  lay  down  for  them.  For  example. 
It  is  a mere  unwarranted  assumption  if  the  Antiquarian 
_ “ Nothing  has  ever  taken  place  but  is  to  be 

^ feMsrfiOoHmenTsj-”  oF  if  the  Philosophic 
says,  “ There  is  nothing  in  Judaism  different  from  other 
political  institutions  ; ” or  if  the  Anatomist,  “ There  is 
no  soul  beyond  the  brain  ; ” or  if  the  Political  Economist, 
“ Easy  circumstances  make  men  virtuous.”  These  are 
enunciations,  not  of  Science,  but  of  Private  Judgment ; 
and  it  is  Private  Judgment  that  infects  every  science 
which  It  touches  with  a hostility  to  Theology,  a hostility 
which  properly  attaches  to  no  science  in  itself  whatever. 

If  then.  Gentlemen,  I now  resist  such  a course  of 
acting  as  unphilosophical,  what  is  this  but  to  do  as  men 
of  Science  do  when  the  interests  of  their  own  respective 
pursuits  are  at  stake  ? If  they  certainly  would  resist  the 
divine  who  determined  the  orbit  of  Jupiter  by  the 
Pentateuch,  why  am  I to  be  accused  of  cowardice  or 
illiberality,  because  I will  not  tolerate  their  attempt  in 
turn  to  theologize  by  means  of  astronomy  .?  And  if  ex- 
perimentalists would  be  sure  to  cry  out,  did  I attempt 
to  install  the  Thomist  philosophy  in  the  schools  of  astro- 
nomy and  medicine,  why  may  not  I,  when  Divine  Science 
IS  ostracized,  and  La  Place,  or  Buffon,  or  Humboldt,  sits 
down  in  its  chair,  why  may  not  I fairly  protest  against 
^eir  exclusiveness,  and  demand  the  emancipation  of 
rheology  ? 


15- 


And  now  I consider  I have  said  enough  in  proof  of 
the  first  point,  which  I undertook  to  maintain,  viz.,  the 
c aim  of  Theology  to  be  represented  among  the  Chairs 


98 


Discourse  IV. 


of  a University.  I have  shown,  I think,  that  exclusive- 
ness really  attaches,  not  to  those  who  support  that  claim, 
but  to  those  who  dispute  it.  I have  argued  in  its  behalf, 
first,  from  the  consideration  that,  whereas  it  is  the  very 
profession  of  a University  to  teach  all  sciences,  on  tliis 
.amount  it  cannot  exclude  Theology  without  being  untrue 
to  its  profession.  ]^xt,.J  have  said  that,  all  sdenees 
^Hng  Irohhected  together,  and  having  bearings  one  on^ 
another,  it  is  impossible  to  teach  them  all  thoroughly^ 
unless  they  all  are  taken  into  account,  and  Theology 
among  them.  Moreover,  I haveJnsisted_on  the  important 
influence,  which  Theology  in  matter  of  fact  does  and  must 
exercise  oyer  a great  variety  of  sciences,  completing  and 
correcting  them ; so  that,  granting  it  to  be  a real  science 
occupied  upon  truth,  it  cannot  be  omitted  without  great . 
prejudice  to  the  teaching  of  the  rest.  And  lastly,  I Jiavc 
u^ed  that,  supposing  ^Theology  he  ^ . not  taught,  its — 
province  will  not  simply  be  neglected,  but  will  be  actually 
usurped  by  other  sciences,  which  will  teach,  without^ 
warrant,  conclusions  of  their  own  in  a subject-matter 
which  needs  its  own  proper  principles  for  its  due  forma- 
tion and  disposition. 

Abstract  statements  are  always  unsatisfactory  ; these, 
as  I have  already  observed,  could  be  illustrated  at  far 
greater  length  than  the  time  allotted  to  me  for  the 
purpose  has  allowed.  Let  me  hope  that  I have  said 
enough  upon  the  subject  to  suggest  thoughts,  which 
those  who  take  an  interest  in  it  may  pursue  for  them- 
selves. 


99 


DISCOURSE  V. 

KNOWLEDGE  ITS  OWN  END. 
UNIVERSITY  may  be  considered  with  reference 


either  to  its  Students  or  to  its  Studies  ; and  the 
principle,  that  all  Knowledge  is  a whole  and  the  sepa- 
rate Sciences  parts  of  one,  which  I have  hitherto  been 
using  in  behalf  of  its  studies,  is  equally  important  when 
we  direct  our  attention  to  its  students.  Now  then  I 
turn  to  the  students,  and  shall  consider  the  education 
which,  by  virtue  of  this  principle,  a University  will  give 
them ; and  thus  I shall  be  introduced.  Gentlemen,  to 
the  second  question,  which  I proposed  to  discuss,  viz, 
whether  and  in  what  sense  its  teaching,  viewed  relatively 
to  the  taught,  carries  the  attribute  of  Utility  along  with  it. 


I 


I have  said  that  all  branches  of  knowledge  are  con- 
nected together,  because  the  subject-matter  of  knowledge 
is  intimately  united  in  itself,  as  being  the  acts  and  the 
work  of  the  Creator.  Hence  it  is  that  the  Sciences,  into 
which  our  knowledge  may  be  said  to  be  cast,  have  multi- 
plied bearings  one  on  another,  and  an  internal  sympathy, 
and  admit,  or  rather  demand,  comparison  and  adjustment. 
They  complete,  correct,  balance  each  other.  This  con- 
sideration, if  well-founded,  must  be  taken  into  account, 
not  only  as  regards  the  attainment  of  truth,  which  is 


lOO 


Discourse  V. 


their  common  end,  but  as  regards  the  influence  which 
they  exercise  upon  those  whose  education  consists  in  the 
study  of  them.  I have  said  already,  that  to  give  undue 
prominence  to  one  is  to  be  unjust  to  another  ; to  neglect 
or  supersede  these  is  to  divert  those  from  their  proj^r 
object.  It  is  to  unsettle  the  boundary  lines  between 
science  and  science,  to  disturb  their  action,  to  destroy 
the  harmony  which  binds  them  together.  Such  a pro- 
ceeding will  have  a corresponding  effect  when  introduced 
into  a place  of  education.  There  is  no  science  but  tells 
a different  tale,  when  viewed  as  a portion  of  a whole, 
from  what  it  is  likely  to  suggest  when  taken  by  itself, 
without  the  safeguard,  as  I may  call  it,  of  others. 

Let  me  make  use  of  an  illustration.  In  the  combination 
of  colours,  very  different  effects  are  produced  by  a 
difference  in  their  selection  and  juxta-position  ; red,  green, 
and  white,  change  their  shades,  according  to  the  contrast 
to  which  they  are  submitted.  And,  in  like  manner,  the 
drift  and  meaning  of  a branch  of  knowledge  varies  with 
the  company  in  which  it  is  introduced  to  the  student 
If  his  reading  is  confined  simply  to  one  subject,  however 
such  division  of  labour  may  favour  the  advancement  of  a 
particular  pursuit,  a point  into  which  I do  not  here  enter, 
certainly  it  has  a tendency  to  contract  his  mind.  If  it  is 
incorporated  with  others,  it  depends  on  those  others  as 
to  the  kind  of  influence  which  it  exerts  upon  him.  Thus 
the  Classics,  which  in  England  are  the  means  of  refining 
the  taste,  have  in  France  subserved  the  spread  of  revolu- 
tionary and  deistical  doctrines.  In  Metaphysics,  again, 
Butler’s  Analogy  of  Religion,  which  has  had  so  much  to 
do  with  the  conversion  to  the  Catholic  faith  of  members 
of  the  University  of  Oxford,  appeared  to  Pitt  and  others, 
who  had  received  a different  training,  to  operate  only  in 
the  direction  of  infidelity.  And  so  again,  Watson,  Bishop 


lot 


Knowledge  iis  Own  End, 

of  Llandafif,  as  I think  he  tells  us  in  the  narrative  of  his 
life,  felt  the  science  of  Mathematics  to  indispose  the 
mind  to  religious  belief,  while  others  see  in  its  investiga- 
tions the  best  parallel,  and  thereby  defence,  of  the  Chris- 
tian Mysteries.  In  like  manner,  I suppose,  Arcesilas 
would  not  have  handled  logic  as  Aristotle,  nor  Aristotle 
have  criticized  poets  as  Plato  ; yet  reasoning  and  poetry 
are  subject  to  scientific  rules. 

jtjs  a great  point  then  to  enlarge  the  range  of  studies 
which  a University  professes^ . even  for  the  sake  of  the 
students  ; and^^ough  they  ca^  pursue  every  subject^ 
\^ich  is  open  to  them,  they  will  be  the  gainers  by  living 
among  those  and  under  JbQse  wliQ  represent  the  whole, 
circle.  This  I conceive  to  be  the  advantage  of  a seat  of 
universal  learning,  considered  as  a place  of  education. 
An_  assemblage  of  learned  men,  zealous  for  their  own 
sciences,  and  rivals  of  each  other,  are  brought,  by  familiar 
mtercourse  and  for  the  sake  of  intellectual  peace,  to^ 
adjust  together  thjejdai^  and  relations  of  their  respective. 
subjects  of  investigation.  They_learn  to . respect,  to 
consult,  to  aid  each  other.  Thus  is  created  a pure  and 
cIeaF”atmosphere  of  thought,  which  the  student  also 
breathes,  though  in  his  own  case  he  only  pursues  a few 
sciences  out  cf  the  multitude.  I^_profi^ts  by  an 

lectual  tradition, which  is  independent  of  particular 

teachers,  which  guides  him  in  his  choice^o£^bj[^ts^_and 
duly  interprets  Jor  him  those^whicK  he  chopses.  He 
apprehends  the  great  outlines  of  knowledge,  the  principles 
oiT  which  it"  rests,  the  scale  of  its  parts,  its  lights  and 
shades,  its  great  points  and  its  little,  as  he  otherwise 
^cannot  apprehend  them.  Hence  it  is  that  his  education 
is  called  Lil^al.”  A habit  of  mind  is  formed  which- 
lasts  through  life,  of  which  the  attributes  are,  freedom, 
equitableness,  calmness,  moderation^  and  wisdom  ; or 


102 


Discourse  V. 


what  in  a former  Discourse  I have  ventured  to  calL a_ 
philosophical  habit  This^^en  I .would  assign  as^J^ 
special  fruit  of  the  education  furrdsJicd^^t^^U^ 
aS"  contrast e3  with  other  ];naces  of  teaching  or  modes  of 
teaching.  This  is  the  main  purpose  , of  a . nniversitY^ 
jts  treatment  of  its  students. 

And  now  the  question  is  asked  me,  What  is  the  use 
of  it  ? and  my  answer  will  constitute  the  main  subject  of 
the  Discourses  which  are  to  follow. 


2. 

Cautious  and  practical  thinkers,  I say,  will  ask  of  me, 
what,  after  ail,  is  the  gain  of  this  Philosophy,  of  which  I 
make  such  account,  and  from  which  I promise  so  much. 
Even  supposing  it  to  enable  us  to  exercise  the  degree  of 
trust  exactly  due  to  every  science  respectively,  and  to 
estimate  precisely  the  value  of  every  truth  which  is  any- 
where to  be  found,  how  are  we  better  for  this  master  view 
of  things,  which  I have  been  extolling  ? Does  it  not  re- 
verse the  principle  of  the  division  of  labour  ? will  prac- 
tical objects  be  obtained  better  or  worse  by  its  culti- 
vation ? to  what  then  does  it  lead  ? where  does  it  end  ? 
what  does  it  do  ? how  does  it  profit  ? what  does  it 
promise  } Particular  sciences  are  respectively  the  basis 
of  definite  arts,  which  carry  on  to  results  tangible  and 
beneficial  the  truths  which  are  the  subjects  of  the  know- 
ledge attained  ; what  is  the  Art  of  this  science  of 
sciences  ? what  is  the  fruit  of  such  a Philosophy  ? what 
are  we  proposing  to  effect,  what  inducements  do  we  hold 
out  to  the  Catholic  community,  when  we  set  about  the 
enterprise  of  founding  a University  ? 

lam  asked  what  Js,  the  e,n^^  Education, 

andoTtH^Liberal  or  Philosophical  Knowledge ^which  I 
conceive  it  to  impart : I answer,  that  what  I have  already 


Knowledge  its  Own  End. 


103 


said  has  been  sufficient  to  show  that  it  has  a very  tan- 
gible, real,  and  sufficient  end,  though  the  end  cannot  be 
divided  from  that  knowledge  itself.  Knowledge  is  capa- 
ble of  being  its  own  end.  Such  is  the  constitution  of  the 
KiTman " any  l^d  of  kno^^dge,  if  it  be  really 

^uchjj  is  its  own  reward.  And  if  this  is  true  oraTTEio^ 
ledge,  it  is  true  also  of  that  special  Philosophy,  which 
I have  made  to  consist  in  a comprehensive  view  of  truth 
in  all  its  branches,  of  the  relations  of  science  to  science, 
of  their  mutual  bearings,  and  their  respective  values. 
What  the  worth  of  such  an  acquirement  is,  compared 
with  other  objects  which  we  seek, — wealth  or  power  or 
honour  or  the  conveniences  and  comforts  of  life,  I do  not 
profess  here  to  discuss;  but  I would  maintain,  and 
mean  to  show,  that.  it  is  an  object,  iuJts  own  nature  so 
rgally  and  undeniably  good,  as  to  be  the  compensation 
great  deal  of  thought  in  the  compassing,  and  a 
great  de^  of  trouble  in  the  attaining. 

'^TTow,  when  I say  that  Knowledge  is,  not  merely  a 
means  to  something  beyond  it,  or  the  preliminary  of 
certain  arts  into  which  it  naturally  resolves,  but  an  end 
sufficient  to  rest  in  and  to  pursue  for  its  own  sake,  surely 
I am  uttering  no  paradox,  for  I am  stating  what  is  both 
intelligible  in  itself,  and  has  ever  been  the  common 
judgment  of  philosophers  and  the  ordinary  feeling  of 
mankind.  I am  saying  what  at  least  the  public  opinion 
of  this  day  ought  to  be  slow  to  deny,  considering  how 
much  we  have  heard  of  late  years,  in  opposition  to 
Religion,  of  entertaining,  curious,  and  various  knowledge. 

I am  but  saying  what  whole  volumes  have  been  written 
to  illustrate,  viz.,  by  a selection  from  the  records  of  Phi- 
losophy, Literature,  and  Art,  in  all  ages  and  countries, 
of  a body  of  examples,  to  show  how  the  most  unpropitious 
circumstances  have  been  unable  to  conquer  an  ardent 


104 


Discourse  K 


desire  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.”  * That  further 
advantages  accrue  to  us  and  redound  to  others  by  its 
possession,  over  and  above  what  it  is  in  itself,  I am  very 
far  indeed  from  denying  ; but,  independent  of  these,  we 
are  satisfying  a direct  need  of  our  nature  in  its  very 
acquisition  ; and,  whereas  our  nature,  unlike  that  of  the 
inferior  creation,  does  not  at  once  reach  its  perfection, 
but  depends,  in  order  to  it,  on  a number  of  external  aids 
and  appliances.  Knowledge,  as  one  of  the  principal  of 
these,  is  valuable  for  what  its  very  presence  in  us  does 
for  us  after  the  manner  of  a habit,  even  though  it  be 
turned  to  no  further  account,  nor  subserve  any  direct 
end. 


3- 

Hence  it  is  that  Cicero,  in  enumerating  the  various 
heads  of  mental  excellence,  lays  down  the  pursuit  of 
Knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  as  the  first  of  them.  “ This 
pertains  most  of  all  to  human  nature,”  he  says,  for  we 
are  all  of  us  drawn  to  the  pursuit  of  Knowledge ; in 
which  to  excel  we  consider  excellent,  whereas  to  mis- 
take, to  err,  to  be  ignorant,  to  be  deceived,  is  both  an 
evil  and  a disgrace.”  t And  he  considers  Knowledge 
the  very  first  object  to  which  we  are  attracted,  after  the 
supply  of  our  physical  wants.  After  the  calls  and  duties 
of  our  animal  existence,  as  they  may  be  termed,  as  re- 
gards ourselves,  our  family,  and  our  neighbours,  follows, 
he  tells  us,  ‘‘the  search  after  truth.  Accordingly,  as 
soon  as  we  escape  from  the  pressure  of  necessary  cares, 
forthwith  we  desire  to  see,  to  hear,  and  to  learn  ; and 
consider  the  knowledge  of  what  is  hidden  or  is  wonder- 
ful a condition  of  our  happiness.” 

* Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties.  Introd. 
f Cicer.  Offic.  init. 


Knowledge  its  Own  End.  105 

This  passage,  though  it  is  but  one  of  many  similar 
passages  in  a multitude  of  authors,  I take  for  the  very 
reason  that  it  is  so  familiarly  known  to  us ; and  I wish 
you  to  observe.  Gentlemen,  how  distinctly  it  separates 
the  pursuit  of  Knowledge  from  those  ulterior  objects  to 
which  certainly  it  can  be  made  to  conduce,  and  which 
are,  I suppose,  solely  contemplated  by  the  persons  who 
would  ask  of  me  the  use  of  a University  or  Liberal 
Education.  So  far  from  dreaming  of  the  cultivation  of 
Knowledge  directly  and  mainly  in  order  to  our  physical 
comfort  and  enjoyment,  for  the  sake  of  life  and  person, 
of  health,  of  the  conjugal  and  family  union,  of  the  social 

tie  and  civil  security,  theff-eat  Orator implies,That  it  is 

only  after  our  physical  and  political  needs  are  supplied,, 
and  when  wiTare  ‘Tree  from  necessary  duties  and  cares,’’ 
t^atw^are..jii^..condition^.^^.fo^  desiring  to  see,  to  hear, 
a^d  to  learn.”  Nor  does  he  contemplate  in  the  least 
degree  the  reflex^^^oT^^ub^^^uent  action  of  Knowledge, 
when  acq^uired7^bn~T:hose  material  goods  which  we  set 
ouFby  securing  before  we  seek  it ; on  the  contrary,  he_ 
expressly  denies  its  bearing  upon  social  life  altogether,.^ 
strange  as  such  a proceHi^Js  Jto  those  who  live  after  the 
^e  of  the  Baconian  philosophy,  and_  he  cajations  us . 
against  such  a^^Ttivation  of  it  as^will  interfere  with  our 
duties  to  our  f^lbw-creatures.  “ All  these  methods,”  he 
says,  “are  engaged  in  the  investigation  of  truth  ; by  the 
pursuit  of  which  to  be  carried  off  from  public  occupa- 
tions is  a transgression  of  duty.  For  the  praise  of  virtue 
lies  altogether  in  action  ; yet  intermissions  often  occur, 
and  then  we  recur  to  such  pursuits  ; not  to  say  that  the 
incessant  activity  of  the  mind  is  vigorous  enough  to 
carry  us  on  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  even  without 
any  exertion  of  our  own.”  The  idea  of  benefiting 
society  by  means  of  “ the  pursuit  of  science  and  know- 


io6 


Discourse  V. 


ledge  did  not  enter  at  all  into  the  motives  which  he 
would  assign  for  their  cultivation. 

This  was  the  ground  of  the  opposition  which  the  elder 
Cato  made  to  the  introduction  of  Greek  Philosophy 
among  his  countrymen,  when  Carneades  and  his  com- 
panions, on  occasion  of  their  embassy,  were  charming 
the  Roman  youth  with  their  eloquent  expositions  of  it 
The  fit  representative  of  a practical  people,  Cato  esti- 
mated every  thing  by  what  it  produced;  whereas  the 
Pursuit  of  Knowledge  promised  nothing  beyond  Know- 
ledge itself.  He  despised  that  refinement  or  enlargement 
of  mind  of  which  he  had  no  experience. 

4* 

Things,  which  can  bear  to  be  cut  off  from  every  thing 
else  and  yet  persist  in  living,  must  have  life  in  themselves ; 
pursuits,  which  issue  in  nothing,  and  still  maintain  their 
ground  for  ages,  which  are  regarded  as  admirable,  though 
they  have  not  as  yet  proved  themselves  to  be  useful, 
must  have  their  sufficient  end  in  themselves,  whatever  it 
turn  out  to  be.  And  we  are  brought  to  the  same  con- 
clusion by  considering  the  force  of  the  epithet,  by  which 
the  knowledge  under  consideration  is  popularly  desig- 
nated. It  is  common  to  speak  of  liberal  knowledge,'' 
of  the  liberal  arts  and  studies,"  and  of  a liberal  edu- 
cation," as  the  especial  characteristic  or  property  of  a 
University  and  of  a gentleman ; what  is  really  meant 
by  the  word  } Now,  first,  in  its  grammatical  sense  it  is 
opposed  to  servile;  and  by  ‘^servile  work"  is  understood, 
as  our  catechisms  inform  us,  bodily  labour,  mechanical 
employment,  and  the  like,  in  which  the  mind  has  little 
or  no  part.  Parallel  to  such  servile  works  are  those  arts, 
if  they  deserve  the  name,  of  which  the  poet  speaks,* 

* koI  tvxo  rCxyrjv, 

Vid.  Arist.  Nic.  Ethic,  vi. 


which  owe  their  origin  and  their  method  to  hazard,  not 
to  skill ; as,  for  instance,  the  practice  and  operations  of 
an  empiric.  As  far  as  this  contrast  may  be  considered 
as  a guide  into  the  meaning  of  the  word,  liberal  educa- 
tion and  liberal  pursuits  are  exercises  of  mind,  of  reason, 
of  reflection. 

But  we  want  something  more  for  its  explanation,  for 
there  are  bodily  exercises  which  are  liberal,  and  mental 
exercises  which  are  not  so.  For  instance,  in  ancient 
times  the  practitioners  in  medicine  were  commonly 
slaves  ; yet  it  was  an  art  as  intellectual  in  its  nature,  in 
spite  of  the  pretence,  fraud,  and  quackery  with  which  it 
might  then,  as  now,  be  debased,  as  it  was  heavenly  in  its 
aim.  And  so  in  like  manner,  we  contrast  a liberal 
education  with  a commercial  education  or  a professional ; 
yet  no  one  can  deny  that  commerce  and  the  professions 
afford  scope  for  the  highest  and  most  diversified  powers 
of  mind.  There  is  then  a great  variety  of  intellectual  7 
exercises,  which  are  not  technically  called  liberal ; on! 
the  other  hand,  I say,  there  are  exercises  of  the  body 
which  do  receive  that  appellation.  Such,  for  instance,, 
was  the  palaestra,  in  ancient  times  ; such  the  Olympic 
games,  in  which  strength  and  dexterity  of  body  as  well 
as  of  mind  gained  the  prize.  In  Xenophon  we  read  of 
the  young  Persian  nobility  being  taught  to  ride  on  horse-, 
back  and  to  speak  the  truth  ; both  being  among  the 
accomplishments  of  a gentleman.  War,  too,  however 
rough  a profession,  has  ever  been  accounted  liberal, 
unless  in  cases  when  it  becomes  heroic,  which  would 
introduce  us  to  another  subject. 

Now  comparing  these  instances  together,  we  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  determining  the  principle  of  this 
apparent  variation  in  the  application  of  the  term  which 
I am  examining.  Manly  games,  or  games  of  skill,  or 


io8 


Discourse  V. 


military  prowess,  though  bodily,  are,  it  seems,  accounted 
liberal ; on  the  other  hand,  what  is  merely  professional, 
though  highly  intellectual,  nay,  though  liberal  in  com- 
parison of  trade  and  manual  labour,  is  not  simply  called 
liberal,  and  mercantile  occupations  are  not  liberal  at  all. 
Whyjthis distinction  } because  that  alone  is  liberal  know- 
T^ge,  wliich_stands  on  its  own  pretensions,"*"which^ 
in^pe^^t  of  sequel,  expects  no  c^om^ement,  refuses. 
toJ)e  mformed  (as  it  is  called)  by  any  end,  or  absorbed 
into  any  art,  in  order  duly  to  preseid  its^lfjo^^gau^^ 
temptation.  The  most  ordinary  pursuits  have  this  specific 
cEamHer,  iT  they  are  self-sufficient  and  complete  ; the 
highest  lose  it,  when  they  minister  to  something  beyond 
them.  It  is  absurd  to  balance,  in  point  of  worth  and 
importance,  a treatise  on  reducing  fractures  with  a game 
of  cricket  or  a fox-chase  ; yet  of  the  two  the  bodily 
exercise  has  that  quality  which  we  call  liberal,’'  and 
the  intellectual  has  it  not.  And  so  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions altogether,  considered  merely  as  professions ; 
although  one  of  them  be  the  most  popularly  beneficial, 
and  another  the  most  politically  important,  and  the  third 
the  most  intimately  divine  of  all  human  pursuits,  yet 
the  very  greatness  of  their  end,  the  health  of  the  body, 
or  of  the  commonwealth,  or  of  the  soul,  diminishes,  not 
increases,  their  claim  to  the  appellation  liberal,”  and 
that  still  more,  if  they  are  cut  down  to  the  strict  exigen- 
cies of  that  end.  If,  for  instance.  Theology,  instead  of 
being  cultivated  as  a contemplation,  be  limited  to  the 
purposes  of  the  pulpit  or  be  represented  by  the  cate- 
chism, it  loses, — not  its  usefulness,  not  its  divine  character, 
not  its  meritoriousness  (rather  it  gains  a claim  upon  these 
titles  by  such  charitable  condescension), — but  it  does  lose 
the  particular  attribute  which  I am  illustrating;  just  as 
a face  worn  by  tears  and  fasting  loses  its  beauty,  or  a 


Knowledge  its  Own  End.  109 

labourer’s  hand  loses  its  delicateness  ; — for  Theology 
thus  exercised  is  not  simple  knowledge,  but  rather  is 
an  art  or  a business  making  use  of  Theology.  And 
thus  it  appears  that  even  what  is  supernatural  need  not 
be  liberal,  nor  need  a hero  be  a gentleman,  for  the  plain 
reason  that  one  idea  is  not  another  idea.  And  in  like 
manner  the  Baconian  Philosophy,  by  using  its  physical 
sciences  in  the  service  of  man,  does  thereby  transfer  them 
from  the  order  of  Liberal  Pursuits  to,  I do  not  say  the 
inferior,  but  the  distinct  class  of  the  Useful.  And,  to 
take  a different  instance,  hence  again,  as  is  evident, 
v/henever  personal  gain  is  the  motive,  still  more  distinc- 
tive an  effect  has  it  upon  the  character  of  a given  pursuit ; 
thus  racing,  which  was  a liberal  exercise  in  Greece,  for- 
feits its  rank  in  times  like  these,  so  far  as  it  is  made  the 
occasion  of  gambling. 

All  that  I have  been  now  saying  is  summed  up  in  a 
few  characteristic  words  of  the  great  Philosopher.  ‘‘  Of 
possessions,”  he  says,  those  rather  are  useful,  which 
bear  fruit ; those  liberal,  which  te7id  to  ejijoyment.  By 
fruitful,  I mean,  which  yield  revenue ; by  enjoyable, 
where  nothing  accrues  of  coftsequence  beyond  the  usingr* 

5. 

Do  not  suppose,  that  in  thus  appealing  to  the  ancients, 
I am  throwing  back  the  world  two  thousand  years,  and 
fettering  Philosophy  with  the  reasonings  of  paganism. 
While  the  world  lasts,  will  Aristotle’s  doctrine  on  these 
matters  last,  for  he  is  the  oracle  of  nature  and  of  truth. 
While  we  are  men,  we  cannot  help,  to  a great  extent, 
being  Aristotelians,  for  the  great  Master  does  but  analyze 
the  thoughts,  feelings,  views,  and  opinions  of  human  kind. 
He  has  told  us  the  meaning  of  our  own  words  and  ideas, 
* Aristot.  Rhet.  i.  5. 


I lO 


Discotcrse  V. 


before  we  were  born.  In  many  subject-matters,  to  think 
correctly,  is  to  think  like  Aristotle ; and  we  are  his  dis- 
ciples whether  we  will  or  no,  though  we  may  not  know 
it.  Now,  as  to  the  particular  instance  before  us,  the_ 
word  liberal ''  as  apj^Hed  ^ K and  Education, 

expresses  a specific  idea,  which  ey  has  been,  and  ever, 
will  be,  while  the  nature  of  man  is  the  same,  just  as  the 
of  the  Beautiful  is  specific,  or  of  the  Sublime,  or  of 
the  Ridiculous,  or  of  the  Sordid.  It  is  in  the  world 
now,  it  was  in  the  world  then ; and,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  dogmas  of  faith,  it  is  illustrated  by  a continuous 
historical  tradition,  and  never  was  out  of  the  world,  from 
the  time  it  came  into  it.  There  have  indeed  been  dif- 
ferences of  opinion  from  time  to  time,  as  to  what  pur-^* 
“§uTfs  and  what  arts  came  under  that  idea,  but  such 
differences  are  but  an  additional  evidence  of  its  reality. 
That  idea  must  have  a substance  in  it,  which  has  main- 
tained its  ground  amid  these  conflicts  and  changes, 
which  has  ever  served  as  a standard  to  measure  things 
withal,  which  has  passed  from  mind  to  mind  unchanged, 
when  there  was  so  much  to  colour,  so  much  to  influence 
any  notion  or  thought  whatever,  which  was  not  founded 
in  our  very  nature.  Were  it  a mere  generalization,  it 
would  have  varied  with  the  subjects  from  which  it  was 
generalized  ; but  though  its  subjects  vary  with  the  age, 
it  varies  not  itself.  The  palaestra  may  seem  a liberal 
^exerci^  to  Lycurgus,  and  illiberal  to  Seneca ; coach- 
driving and  prize-fighting  may  be  recognized  in  Elis, 
and  be  condemned  in  England ; music  may  be  despica- 
ble in  the  eyes  of  certain  moderns,  and  be  in  the  highest  I 
place  with  Aristotle  and  Plato, — (and  the  case  is  the  ! 
same  in  the  particular  application  of  the  idea  of  Beauty,  ( 
or  of  Goodness,  or  of  Moral  Virtue,  there  is  a difference 
of  tastes,  a difference  of  judgments) — still  these  varia-  i 


Knowledge  its  Own  End, 


III 


tions  imply,  instead  of  discrediting,  the  archetypal  idea, 
which  is  but  a previous  hypothesis  or  condition,  by 
means  of  which  issue  is  joined  between  contending 
opinions,  and  without  which  there  would  be  nothing  to 
dispute  about. 

I consider,  then,  that  I am  chargeable  with  no  para- 
dox, when  I speak  of  a Knowledge  which  is  its  own  end, 
when  I call  it  liberal  knowledge,  or  a gentleman's  know- 
ledge, when  I educate  for  it,  and  make  it  the  scope  of  a 
University.  And  still  less  am  I incurring  such  a charge, 
when  I make  this  acquisition  consist,  not  in  Knowledge 
in  a vague  and  ordinary  sense,  but  in  that  Knowledge 
which  I have  especially  called  Philosophy  or,  in  an  ex- 
tended sense  of  the  word.  Science  ; for  whatever  claims 
Knowledge  has  to  be  considered  as  a good,  these  it  has 
in  a higher  degree  when  it  is  viewed  not  vaguely,  not 
popularly,  but  precisely  and  transcendently  as  Philo- 
sophy. Knowledge,  I say,  is  then  especially  liberal,  or 
sufficient  for  itself,  apart  from  every  external  and  ulterior 
object,  when  and  so  far  as  it  is  philosophical,  and  this  I 
proceed  to  show. 


6. 

Now  bear  with  me.  Gentlemen,  if  what  I am  about  to 
say,  has  at  first  sight  a fanciful  appearance.  Philosophy, 
then,  or  Science,  is  related  to  Knowledge  in  this  way  : — - 
Knowledge  is  called  by  the  name  of  Science  or  Philoso- 
phy, when  it  is  acted  upon,  informed,  or  if  I may  use  a 
strong  figure,  impregnated  by  Reason.  Reason  is  the' 
principle  of  that  intrinsic  fecundity  of  Knowledge,  which, 
to  those  who  possess  it,  is  its  especial  value,  and  which 
dispenses  with  the  necessity  of  their  looking  abroad  for 
any  end  to  rest  upon  external  to  itself.  Knowledge,  in- 
deed, when  thus  exalted  into  a scientific  form,  is  also 


Discourse  V. 


I 12 


\ power ; not  only  is  it  excellent  in  itself,  but  whatever 
such  excellence  may  be,  it  is  something  more,  it  has  a 
result  beyond  itself.  Doubtless ; but  that  is  a further 
consideration,  with  which  I am  not  concerned.  I only 
say  that,  prior  to  its  being  a power,  it  is  a good  ; that  it 
is,  not  only  an  instrument,  but  an  end.  I know  well  it 
^ay  resolve  itself  into  an  art,  and  terminate  in  a 
I mechanical  process,  and  in  tangible  fruit ; but  it  also 
may  fall  back  upon  that  Reason  which  informs  it,  and 
resolve  itself  into  Philosophy.  In  one  case  it  is  called 
^Useful  Knowledge,  in  the  other  Liberal.  The  same  person 
pay  cultivate  it  in  both  ways  at  once  ; but  this  again 
IS  a matter  foreign  to  my  subject ; here  I do  but  say_ 
that  there  are  two  ways  of  using  Knowledge,  and  itL 
matter  of  fact  those  who  use  it  in  one  way  are  not  likely 
to  ITsent  in  the  other,  or  at  least  in  a vefyTmiTed.mear^" 


sur^^You  see,  then,  here  are  two  methods  of  Education; 
tlie  end  of  the  one  is  to  be  philosophical,  of  the  othor  tp^ 
be  ^ph^nical ; the  one  rises  towards  generaTiHeas,  the 
other  is  exhausted  upon  what  is  particular  and  external. 
CeTm^  not  be  thought  to  deny  the  necessity,  or  to  decry 
tte“  IrenBfrtrof  such  attention  to  wKS  is  particular  and 
practicHTaslaelon^^t^^  useful  or  mechanicaTprtsJT^ 
COUlfl"iibFgo*on  withouFtliem  ; we  owe  our  daily  welfare 


to  them  ; their  exercise  is  the  duty  of  the  many,  and  we 
owe  to  the  many  a debt  of  gratitude  for  fulfilling  that 
duty.  I only  say  that  Knowledge,  in  P5;o£0!ltioiLJ:£jt 
tends  more  and  more  to  be  particular,  ceases  to  be 
Knowledge.  It  is  a question  whether  TCnowledge  can 
in  any  proper  sense  be  predicated  of  the  brute  creation  ; 
without  pretending  to  metaphysical  exactness  of  phrase- 
ology,  which  would  be  unsuitable  to  an  occasion  like  this, 
I say,  it  seems  to  me  improper  to  call  that  passive  sen- 
sation, or  perception  of  things,  which  brutes  seem  to 


Knowledge  its  Own  End, 


ii 


V 


possess,  by  the  name  of  Knowledge.  When  I speak  of 
Knowl^ge,  I mean  something  intellectual,  someHung™ 
'V^Kich  grasps  what  it  perceives  through  the  senses 
thing  which  takes  a view  of  things  ;.  wkich^^A^^ 
than  the  senses  convey  ; which  reasons  upon  what  it 
sees,  and  "l^He  it  sees ; which  invests  it  witSTaim^a. 
tTexpresses  itself,  not  in-  a mere’" enunciation,  But  ' 

enthymeme  : it  is  of  the  nature  of  science  from  the  first, 
and  in  this  consists  its  dignity.  The  principle  of  real 
dignity  in  Knowledge,  its  worth,  its  desirableness,  con- 
sidered irrespectively  of  its  results,  is  this  germ  within  it 
of  a scientific  or  a philosophical  process”  TKis  is  how 
'TnrdifteS'tO  be  an  end  in  itself ; this  is  why  it  admits  of 
being  called  Liberal.  Not  to  know  the  relative  dispo- 
'sifton'of  things  is  the  state  of  slaves  or  children;  to  have 
mapped  out  the  Universe  is  the  boast,  or  at  least  the 
ambition,  of  Philosophy. 

Moreover,  such  knowledge  is  not  a mere  extrinsic  or 
accidental  advantage,  which  is  ours  to-day  and  another’s 
to-morrow,  which  may  be  got  up  from  a book,  and 
easily  forgotten  again,  which  we  can  command  or  com- 
municate at  our  pleasure,  which  we  can  borrow  for  the 
occasion,  carry  about  in  our  hand,  and  take  into  the 
market ; it  is  an  acquired  illumination,  it  is  a habit,  a 
personal  possession,  and  an  inward  endowment.  And! 
this  is  the  reason,  why  it  is  more  correct,  as  well  as  more 
usual,  to  speak  of  a University  as  a place  of  education, 
than  of  instruction,  though,  when  knowledge  is  concerned, 
instruction  would  at  first  sight  have  seemed  the  more 
appropriate  word.  We  are  instructed,  for  instance,  in 
manual  exercises,  in  the  fine  and  useful  arts,  in  trades, 

I and  in  ways  of  business ; for  these  are  methods,  which 
have  little  or  no  effect  upon  the  mind  itself,  are  contained 
in  rules  committed  to  memory,  to  tradition,  or  to  use, 

8 


Discourse  V 


and  bear  upon  an  end  external  to  themselves.  EujL. 
^ucation  is  a higher  word  ; it  implies  an  action  upon 
our  mental  nature,  and  the  formation  of  a character  ; it 
is  something  individual  and  permanent,  and  is  commonly 
spoken  of  in  connexion  with  religion  and  virtue.  When, 
then,  we  speak  of  the  communication  of  Knowledge  as 
being  Education,  we  thereby  really  imply  that  that 
Knowledge  is  a state  or  condition  of  mind ; and  since 
cultivation  of  mind  is  surely  worth  seekin^^r  its  own 
sake^we  are  thus  brought  once  more  to  the  conclusion, 
"%vhich  the  word  Liberal  and  the  word  Philosophy 
have  already  suggested,  that  th^re  js  a Knowledge^ 
^l^h  is  desirable,  though  nothing  come  of  iL.as„b.eing 
of  itself  a treasure,  and  a sufficient  remuneration  of  years^ 
ofTabour. 


7- 

This,  then,  is  the  answer  which  I am  prepared  to  give 
to  the  question  with  which  I opened  this  Discourse. 
Before  going  on  to  speak  of  the  object  of  the  Church  in 
taking  up  Philosophy,  and  the  uses  to  which  she  puts  it, 
I am  prepared  to  maintain  that  Philosophy  is  its  own 
end,  and,  as  I conceive,  I have  now  begun  the  proof  of 
it.  I am  prepared  to  maintain  that  there  is  a knowledge 
worth  possessing  for  wha^it  is,  and  not  merely  for  what 
iFdoes^  "and"w!!al^  remain  to  me  to-day  I shall 

devote  to  the  removal  of  some  portion  of  the  indistinct- 
ness and  confusion  with  which  the  subject  may  in  some 
minds  be  surrounded. 

It  may  be  objected  then,  that,  when  we  profess  to 
seek  Knowledge  for  some  end  or  other  beyond  itself, 
whatever  it  be,  we  speak  intelligibly  ; but  that,  what- 
ever men  may  have  said,  however  obstinately  the  idea 
may  have  kept  its  ground  from  age  to  age,  still  it  is 


Knowledge  its  Own  End.  115 

simply  unmeaning  to  say  that  we  seek  Knowledge  for 
its  own  sake,  and  for  nothing  else  ; for  that  it  ever  leads 
to  something  beyond  itself,  which  therefore  is  its  end, 
and  the  cause  why  it  is  desirable  ; — moreover,  that  this 
end  is  twofold,  either  of  this  world  or  of  the  next ; that 
all  knowledge  is  cultivated  either  for  secular  objects  or 
for  eternal ; that  if  it  is  directed  to  secular  objects,  it  is 
called  Useful  Knowledge,  if  to  eternal.  Religious  or 
Christian  Knowledge;— in  consequence,  that  if,  as  I have 
allowed,  this  Liberal  Knowledge  does  not  benefit  the 
body  or  estate,  it  ought  to  benefit  the  soul  ; but  if  the 
fact  be  really  so,  that  it  is  neither  a physical  or  a secular 
good  on  the  one  hand,  nor  a moral  good  on  the  other,  it 
cannot  be  a good  at  all,  and  is  not  worth  the  trouble 
which  is  necessary  for  its  acquisition. 

And  then  I may  be  reminded  that  the  professors  of  this 
Liberal  or  Philosophical  Knowledge  have  themselves,  in 
every  age,  recognized  this  exposition  of  the  matter,  and 
have  submitted  to  the  issue  in  which  it  terminates  ; for 
they  have  ever  been  attempting  to  make  men  virtuous  ; 
or,  if  not,  at  least  have  assumed  that  refinement  of  mind 
was  virtue,  and  that  they  themselves  were  the  virtuous 
portion  of  mankind.  This  they  have  professed  on  the 
one  hand  ; and  on  the  other,  they  have  utterly  failed  in 
their  professions,  so  as  ever  to  make  themselves  a proverb 
among  men,  and  a laughing-stock  both  to  the  grave  and 
the  dissipated  portion  of  mankind,  in  consequence  of 
them.  Thus  they  have  furnished  against  themselves  both 
the  ground  and  the  means  of  their  own  exposure,  with- 
out any  trouble  at  all  to  any  one  else.  In  a word,  from 
the  time  that  Athens  was  the  University  of  the  world, 
what  has  Philosophy  taught  men,  but  to  promise  without 
practising,  and  to  aspire  without  attaining.^  What  has 
the  deep  and  lofty  thought  of  its  disciples  ended  in  but 


ii6 


Discourse  V. 


eloquent  words  ? Nay,  what  has  its  teaching  ever  medi- 
tated, when  it  was  boldest  in  its  remedies  for  human  ill, 
beyond  charming  us  to  sleep  by  its  lessons,  that  we 
might  feel  nothing  at  all  ? like  some  melodious  air,  or 
rather  like  those  strong  and  transporting  perfumes,  which 
at  first  spread  their  sweetness  over  every  thing  they 
touch,  but  in  a little  while  do  but  offend  in  proportion  as 
they  once  pleased  us.  Did  Philosophy  support  Cicero 
under  the  disfavour  of  the  fickle  populace,  or  nerve  Seneca 
to  oppose  an  imperial  tyrant } It  abandoned  Brutus,  as  he 
sorrowfully  confessed,  in  his  greatest  need,  and  it  forced 
Cato,  as  his  panegyrist  strangely  boasts,  into  the  false 
position  of  defying  heaven.  How  few  can  be  counted 
among  its  professors,  who,  like  Polemo,  were  thereby 
converted  from  a profligate  course,  or  like  Anaxagoras, 
thought  the  world  well  lost  in  exchange  for  its  posses- 
sion .?  The  philosopher  in  Rasselas  taught  a superhuman 
doctrine,  and  then  succumbed  without  an  effort  to  a trial 
of  human  affection. 

“ He  discoursed,”  we  are  told,  “ with  great  energy  on 
the  government  of  the  passions.  His  look  was  venerable, 
his  action  graceful,  his  pronunciation  clear,  and  his 
diction  elegant.  He  showed,  with  great  strength  of 
sentiment  and  variety  of  illustration,  that  human  nature 
is  degraded  and  debased,  when  the  lower  faculties  pre- 
dominate over  the  higher.  He  communicated  the 
various  precepts  given,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  con- 
quest of  passion,  and  displayed  the  happiness  of  those 
who  had  obtained  the  important  victory,  after  which 
man  is  no  longer  the  slave  of  fear,  nor  the  fool  of  hope  . . . 
He  enumerated  many  examples  of  heroes  immoveable 
by  pain  or  pleasure,  who  looked  with  indifference  on 
those  modes  or  accidents  to  which  the  vulgar  give  the 
names  of  good  and  evil.” 


Knowledge  its  Own  End.  1 1 7 

Rasselas  in  a few  days  found  the  philosopher  in  a 
room  half  darkened,  with  his  eyes  misty,  and  his  face 
pale.  ‘‘Sir,”  said  he,  “you  have  come  at  a time  when 
all  human  friendship  is  useless  ; what  I suffer  cannot  be 
remedied,  what  I have  lost  cannot  be  supplied.  My 
daughter,  my  only  daughter,  from  whose  tenderness  I 
expected  all  the  comforts  of  my  age,  died  last  night  of 
a fever.”  “ Sir,”  said  the  prince,  “ mortality  is  an  event 
by  which  a wise  man  can  never  be  surprised  ; we  know 
that  death  is  always  near,  and  it  should  therefore  always 
be  expected.”  “Young  man,”  answered  the  philosopher, 
“you  speak  like  one  who  has  never  felt  the  pangs  of 
separation.”  “ Have  you,  then,  forgot  the  precept,”  said 
Rasselas,  “ which  you  so  powerfully  enforced  } . . . con- 
sider that  external  things  are  naturally  variable,  but 
truth  and  reason  are  always  the  same.”  “What  comfort,” 
said  the  mourner,  “ can  truth  and  reason  afford  me  } 
Of  what  effect  are  they  now,  but  to  tell  me  that  my 
daughter  will  not  be  restored  } ” 

8. 

^tter,  far  better,  to  make  no  professions,  yo^will 
^y,  man  to  cheat  others  with  what  we  are  not,  and,  to 
scandalize  them  with  what  we ^ are.  The  sensualist,  or 
tlie  man  of  the  world,  at  any  rate  is  not  the  victim  of  fine 
words,  but  pursues  a reality  anT  gains  it.  The  Philo- 
Sophy  of  Utility,  you  will  say,  Gentlemen,  has  at  least 
done  its  work ; and  I grant  it, — it  aimed  low,  but  it  has 
fulfilled  its  aim.  If  that  man  of  great  intellect  who  has 
been  its  Prophet  in  the  conduct  of  life  played  false  to 
his  Qwn  professions,  he  was  not  bound  by  his  philosophy 
to  be  true  to  his  friend  or  faithful  in  his  trust.  Moral 
virtue  was  not  the  line  in  which  he  undertook  to  instruct 
men  ; and  though,  as  the  poet  calls  him,  he  were  the 


ii8 


Discourse  V. 


‘‘meanest'^  of  mankind,  he  was  so  in  what  may  be  called 
his  private  capacity  and  without  any  prejudice  to  the 
theory  of  induction.  He  had  a right  to  be  so,  if  he  chose, 
for  any  thing  that  the  Idols  of  the  den  or  the  theatre 
had  to  say  to  the  contrary.  His  mission  was  the 
increase  of  physical  enjoyment  and  social  comfort ; ^ 
and  most  wonderfully,  most  awfully  has  he  fulfilled  his 
conception  and  his  design.  Almost  day  by  day  have 
we  fresh  and  fresh  shoots,  and  buds,  and  blossoms, 
which  are  to  ripen  into  fruit,  on  that  magical  tree  of 
Knowledge  which  he  planted,  and  to  which  none  of 
us  perhaps,  except  the  very  poor,  but  owes,  if  not  his 
present  life,  at  least  his  daily  food,  his  health,  and 
general  well-being.  He  was  the  divinely  provided 
minister  of  temporal  benefits  to  all  of  us  so  great,  that, 
whatever  I am  forced  to  think  of  him  as  a man,  I have 
not  the  heart,  from  mere  gratitude,  to  speak  of  him 
severely.  And,  in  spite  of  the  tendencies  of  his  philoso- 
phy, which  are,  as  we  see  at  this  day,  to  depreciate,  or 
to  trample  on  Theology,  he  has  himself,  in  his  writings, 
gone  out  of  his  way,  as  if  with  a prophetic  misgiving 
of  those  tendencies,  to  insist  on  it  as  the  instrument  of 
that  beneficent  Father,!  who,  when  He  came  on  earth  in 
visible  form,  took  on  Him  first  and  most  prominently 

* It  will  be  seen  that  on  the  whole  I agree  with  Lord  Macaulay  in  his 
Essay  on  Bacon’s  Philosophy.  I do  not  know  whether  he  would  agree 
with  me. 

f De  Augment,  iv.  2,  vid.  Macaulay’s  Essay  ; vid.  also  “ In  principio 
operis  ad  Deum  Patrem,  Deum  Verbum,  Deum  Spiritum,  preces  fundimus 
humillimas  et  ardent issimas,  ut  humani  generis  aerumnarum  memores,  et 
peregrinationis  istius  vitae,  in  qua  dies  paucos  et  malos  terimus,  novis  siiis 
deemosynis^  per  manus  nostras,  familiam  humanam  dotare  dignentur. 
Atque  illud  insuper  supplices  rogamus,  ne  humana  divinis  officiant ; neve 
ex  reseratione  viarum  senst^s,  et  accensione  majore  luminis  naturalis,  aliquid 
incredtditatis  et  noctis,  animis  nostris  erga  divina  mysteria  obpriatur,”  etC- 
Pi'xf.  Instaur.  Magu, 


Knowledge  Us  Own  End,  1 1 9 

the  office  of  assuaging  the  bodily  wounds  of  human 
nature.  And  truly,  like  the  old  mediciner  in  the  tale, 
‘'he  sat  diligently  at  his  work,  and  hummed,  with 
cheerful  countenance,  a pious  song ; and  then  in  turn 
“ went  out  singing  into  the  meadows  so  gaily,  that  those 
who  had  seen  him  from  afar  might  well  have  thought  it 
was  a youth  gathering  flowers  for  his  beloved,  instead 
of  an  old  physician  gathering  healing  herbs  in  the 
morning  dew.”  * 

Alas,  that  men,  in  the  action  of  life  or  in  their  heart 
of  hearts,  are  not  what  they  seem  to  be  in  their  moments 
of  excitement,  or  in  their  trances  or  intoxications  of 
genius, — so  good,  so  noble,  so  serene  ! Alas,  that  Bacon 
too  in  his  own  way  should  after  all  be  but  the  fellow  of 
those  heathen  philosophers  who  in  their  disadvantages 
had  some  excuse  for  their  inconsistency,  and  who  surprise 
us  rather  in  what  they  did  say  than  in  what  they  did 
not  do  ! Alas,  that  he  too,  like  Socrates  or  Seneca,  must 
be  stripped  of  his  holy-day  coat,  which  looks  so  fair,  and 
should  be  but  a mockery  amid  his  most  majestic  gravity 
of  phrase ; and,  for  all  his  vast  abilities,  should,  in  the 
littleness  of  his  own  moral  being,  but  typify  the  intel- 
lectual narrowness  of  his  school ! However,  granting 
all  this,  heroism  after  all  was  not  his  philosophy : — I 
cannot  deny  he  has  abundantly  achieved  what  he 
proposed.  His  is  simply  a Method  whereby  bodily  dis- 
comforts and  temporal  wants  are  to  be  most  effectually 
removed  from  the  greatest  number  ; and  already,  before 
it  has  shown  any  signs  of  exhaustion,  the  gifts  of  nature, 
in  their  most  artificial  shapes  and  luxurious  profusion 
and  diversity,  from  all  quarters  of  the  earth,  are,  it  is 
undeniable,  by  its  means  brought  even  to  our  doors,  and 
we  rejoice  in  them. 

* Fouque’s  ynknown  Patient. 


120 


Discourse 


9* 

j — Useful  Knowledge  then,  I grant,  has  done  its  work  ; 
and  Liberal  Knowledge  as.  certainly  has  not  done  its 
work, — that  is,  supposing,  as  the  objectors  assume,  its 
direct  end,  like  Religious  Knowledge,  is  to  make  men 
better ; but  this  I will  not  for  an  instant  allow,  and, 
unless  I allow  it,  those  objectors  have  said  nothing  to 
the  purpose.  I admit,  rather  I maintain,  what  they  have 
\ been  urging,  for  I consider  Knowledge  to  have  its  end  in 
j itself  For  all  its  friends,  or  its  enemies,  may  say,  I 
insist  upon  it,  that  it  is  as  real  a mistake  to  burden  it 
with  virtue  or  religion  as  with  the  mechanical  arts.  Its 
direct  business  is  not  to  steel  the  soul  against  temptation 
or  to  console  it  in  affliction,  any  more  than  to  set  the 
loom  in  motion,  or  to  direct  the  steam  carriage ; be  it 
ever  so  much  the  means  or  the  condition  of  both  ma- 
terial and  moral  advancement,  still,  taken  by  and  in 
itself,  it  as  little  mends  our  hearts  as  it  improves  our 
temporal  circumstances.  And  if  its  eulogists  claim  for 
it  such  a power,  they  commit  the  very  same  kind  of 
encroachment  on  a province  not  their  own  as  the 
political  economist  who  should  maintain  that  his  science 
educated  him  for  casuistry  or  diplomacy.  Knowledge 
is  one  thing,  virtue  is  another ; good  sense  is  not  con- 
science, refinement  is  not  humility,  nor  is  largeness  and 
justness  of  view  faith.  Philosophy,  however  enlightened, 
however  profound,  gives  no  command  over  the  passions, 
no  influential  motives,  no  vivifying  principles.  Liberal 
Education^m^akes  not  the  Chr^  not  the,  C^thpJk^r 
''B^tEe  .^gmtlfim  It  is  well  to^g^^s^^^^ixtkmea^jtis^ 
well  to  have  a cultivated  intellect,  a ^delicate  taste,  a. 
candi<j,  equable,  dispassionate  mind,  a ^noble -and- 
courteous  bearing  in  the  conduct  of  these  are  the 


Knowledge  its  Own  E7id.  1 2 1 

connatural  qualities  of  a large  knowledge ; they  are  the 
objects  of  a University ; I am  advocating,  I shall  illus- 
trate and  insist  upon  them  ; but  still,  I repeat,  they  are 
no  guarantee  for  sanctity  or  even  for  conscientiousness, 
they  may  attach  to  the  man  of  the  world,  to  the  profli- 
gate, to  the  heartless, — pleasant,  alas,  and  attractive  as 
he  shows  when  decked  out  in  them.  Taken  by  them- 
selves, they  do  but  seem  to  be  what  they  are  not ; they 
look  like  virtue  at  a distance,  but  they  are  detected  by 
close  observers,  and  on  the  long  run ; and  hence  it  is 
that  they  are  popularly  accused  of  pretence  and  hypo- 
crisy, not,  I repeat,  from  their  own  fault,  but  because 
their  professors  and  their  admirers  persist  in  taking  them 
for  what  they  are  not,  and  are  officious  in  arrogating  for 
them  a praise  to  which  they  have  no  claim.  Quarry  the 
granite  rock  with  razors,  or  moor  the  vessel  with  a 
thread  of  silk ; then  may  you  hope  with  such  keen  and 
delicate  instruments  as  human  knowledge  and  human 
reason  to  contend  against  those  giants,  the  passion  and 
the  pride  of  man. 

Surely  we  are  not  driven  to  theories  of  this  kind,  in 
order  to  vindicate  the  value  and  dignity  of  Liberal 
Knowledge.  Surely  the  real  grounds  on  which  its  pre- 
tensions rest  are  not  so  very  subtle  or  abstruse,  so  very 
strange  or  improbable.  Surely  it  is  very  intelligible  to 
say,  and  that  is  what  I say  here,  that  Liberal  Education, 
viewed  in  itself,  is  simply  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect, 
as  such,  and  its  object  is  nothing  more  or  less  than 
intellectual  excellence.  Every  thing  has  its  own  perfec- 
tion, be  it  higher  or  lower  in  the  scale  of  things  ; and  the 
perfection  of  one  is  not  the  perfection  of  another. 
Things  animate,  inanimate,  visible,  invisible,  all  are  good 
in  their  kind,  and  have  a best  of  themselves,  which  is  an 
object  of  pursuit.  Why  do  you  take  such  pains  with 


122 


Discourse  V. 


your  garden  or  your  park  ? You  see  to  your  walks  and 
turf  and  shrubberies ; to  your  trees  and  drives  ; not  as 
if  you  meant  to  make  an  orchard  of  the  one,  or  corn  or 
pasture  land  of  the  other,  but  because  there  is  a special 
beauty  in  all  that  is  goodly  in  wood,  water,  plain,  and 
slope,  brought  all  together  by  art  into  one  shape,  and 
grouped  into  one  whole.  Your  cities  are  beautiful,  your 
palaces,  your  public  buildings,  your  territorial  mansions, 
your  churches  ; and  their  beauty  leads  to  nothing  beyond 
itself.  There  is  a physical  beauty  and  a moral : there  is 
a beauty  of  person,  there  is  a beauty  of  our  moral  being, 
which  is  natural  virtue  ; and  in  like  manner  there  is  a 
beauty,  there  is  a perfection,  of  the  intellect.  There  is 
an  ideal  perfection  in  these  various  subject-matters, 
towards  which  individual  instances  are  seen  to  rise,  and 
which  are  the  standards  for  all  instances  whatever.  The 
Greek  divinities  and  demigods,  as  the  statuary  has 
moulded  them,  with  their  symmetry  of  figure,  and 
their  high  forehead  and  their  regular  features,  are  the 
perfection  of  physical  beauty.  The  heroes,  of  whom 
history  tells,  Alexander,  or  Caesar,  or  Scipio,  or  Saladin, 
are  the  representatives  of  that  magnanimity  or  self- 
mastery  which  is  the  greatness  of  human  nature.  Chris- 
tianity too  has  its  heroes,  and  in  the  supernatural  order, 
and  we  call  them  Saints,  The  artist  puts  before  him 
beauty  of  feature  and  form  ; the  poet,  beauty  of  mind  ; 
the  preacher,  the  beauty  of  grace : then  intellect  too,  I 
repeat,  has  its  beauty,  and  it  has  those  who  aim  at  it. 
To  open  the  mind,  to  correct  it,  to  refine  it,  to  enable  ii^ 
to  know,  and  td^di^sf,  master,  rule,  and  use  its  know- 
ledg^to^TC^if ”1)0^  its  own^faculties,  application, 

flexibility,  method,  critical  exactness,  sagacity,  resource, 
addTCSsrHbqueht  expressTonTiTan  object  as  intelligible 
(Tor  hefe~we  are  inquiring,  not  ^at  the  object  of  5 


123 


Knowledge  its  Own  End. 

Liberal  Education  is  worth,  nor  what  use  the  Church 
makes  of  it,  but  what  it  is  in  itself),  I say,  an  object  as 
intelligible  as  the  cultivation  of  vartue,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  it  is  absolutely  distinct  from  it 


lO. 

This  indeed  is  but  a temporal  object,  and  a transitory 
possession  : but  so  are  other  things  in  themselves  which 
we  make  much  of  and  pursue.  The  moralist  will  tell 
us  that  man,  in  all  his  functions,  is  but  a flower  which 
blossoms  and  fades,  except  so  far  as  a higher  principle 
breathes  upon  him,  and  makes  him  and  what  he  is  im- 
mortal. Body  and  mind  are  carried  on  into  an  eternal 
state  of  being  by  the  gifts  of  Divine  Munificence ; but 
at  first  they  do  but  fail  in  a failing  world;  and  if  the 
powers  of  intellect  decay,  the  powers  of  the  body  have 
decayed  before  them,  and,  as  an  Hospital  or  an  Alms- 
house, though  its  end  be  ephemeral,  may  be  sanctified 
to  the  service  of  religion,  so  surely  may  a University, 
even  were  it  nothing  more  than  I have  as  yet  described 
it.  We  attain  to  heaven  by  using  this  world  well, 
though  it  is  to  pass  away ; we  perfect  our  nature,  not  by 
undoing  it,  but  by  adding  to  it  what  is  more  than  nature^ 
and  directing  it  towards  aims  higher  than  its  own. 


124 


DISCOURSE  VI 

KNOWLEDGE  VIEWED  IN  RELATION  TO  LEARNING. 


I. 

IT  were  well  if  the  English,  like  the  Greek  language, 
possessed  some  definite  word  to  express,  simply  and 
generally,  intellectual  proficiency  or  perfection,  such  as 
‘‘  health,''  as  used  with  reference  to  the  animal  frame,  and 
virtue,"  with  reference  to  our  moral  nature.  I am  not 
able  to  find  such  a term  ; — talent,  ability,  genius,  belong 
distinctly  to  the  raw  material,  which  is  the  subject-matter, 
not  to  that  excellence  which  is  the  result  of  exercise  and 
training.  When  we  turn,  indeed,  to  the  particular  kinds 
of  intellectual  perfection,  words  are  forthcoming  for  our 
purpose,  as,  for  instance,  judgment,  taste,  and  skill ; yet 
even  these  belong,  for  the  most  part,  to  powers  or 
habits  bearing  upon  practice  or  upon  art,  and  not  to  any 
perfect  condition  of  the  intellect,  considered  in  itself 
Wisdom,  again,  is  certainly  a more  comprehensive  word 
than  any  other,  but  it  has  a direct  relation  to  conduct, 
and  to  human  life.  Knowledge,  indeed,  and  Science 
express  purely  intellectual  ideas,  but  still  not  a state 
or  quality  of  the  intellect ; for  knowledge,  in  its  ordinary 
sense,  is  but  one  of  its  circumstances,  denoting  a posses- 
sion or  a habit ; and  science  has  been  appropriated  to 
the  subject-matter  of  the  intellect,  instead  of  belonging 
in  English,  as  it  ought  to  do,  to  the  intellect  itself.  The 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learnmg,  127 

but  of  the  intellect  ? What  is  this  good,  which  in 
former  times,  as  well  as  our  own,  has  been  found  worth 
the  notice,  the  appropriation,  of  the  Catholic  Church  ? 

I have  then  to  investigate,  in  the  Discourses  which 
follow,  those  qualities  and  characteristics  of  the  intellect 
in  which  its  cultivation  issues  or  rather  consists  ; and, 
with  a view  of  assisting  myself  in  this  undertaking,  I 
shall  recur  to  certain  questions  which  have  already  been 
touched  upon.  These  questions  are  three : viz.  the 
relation  of  intellectual  culture,  first,  to  mere  knowledge ; 
secondly,  to  professional  knowledge  ; and  thirdly,  to 
religious  knowledge.  In  other  words,  are  acqinreinents 
and  attainments  the  scope  of  a University  Education  ? 
or  expertness  in  particular  arts  and  pursuits  ? or  moral 
and  religious  proficiency?  or  something  besides  these 
three  ? These  questions  I shall  examine  in  succession, 
with  the  purpose  I have  mentioned  ; and  I hope  to  be 
excused,  if,  in  this  anxious  undertaking,  I am  led  to 
repeat  what,  either  in  these  Discourses  or  elsewhere,  I 
have  already  put  upon  paper.  And  first,  of  Mere 
Knowledge^  or  Learning,  and  its  connexion  with  intel- 
lectual illumination  or  Philosophy. 

3^ 

I suppose  the  primdfiacie  view  which  the  public  at 
large  would  take  of  a University,  considering  it  as  a place 
of  Education,  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a place  for 
acquiring  a great  deal  of  knowledge  on  a great  many 
subjects.  Memory  is  one  of  the  first  developed  of  the 
mental  faculties;  a boy’s  business  when  he  goes  to 
school  is  to  learn,  that  is,  to  store  up  things  in  his 
memory.  For  some  years  his  intellect  is  little  more 
than  an  instrument  for  taking  in  facts,  or  a receptacle  for 
storing  them  ; he  welcomes  them  as  fast  as  they  come  to 


128 


Discourse  VI, 


him  ; he  lives  on  what  is  without ; he  has  his  eyes  ever 
about  him  ; he  has  a lively  susceptibility  of  impressions  ; 
he  imbibes  information  of  every  kind  ; and  little  does  he 
make  his  own  in  a true  sense  of  the  word,  living  rather 
upon  his  neighbours  all  around  him.  He  has  opinions, 
religious,  political,  and  literary,  and,  for  a boy,  is  ver)^ 
positive  in  them  and  sure  about  them ; but  he  gets  them 
from  his  schoolfellows,  or  his  masters,  or  his  parents,  as 
the  case  may  be.  Such  as  he  is  in  his  other  relations, 
such  also  is  he  in  his  school  exercises  ; his  mind  is  obser- 
vant, sharp,  ready,  retentive  ; he  is  almost  passive  in  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge.  I say  this  in  no  disparage- 
ment of  the  idea  of  a clever  boy.  Geography,  chronology, 
history,  language,  natural  history,  he  heaps  up  the  matter 
of  these  studies  as  treasures  for  a future  day.  It  is  the 
seven  years  of  plenty  with  him  : he  gathers  in  by  hand- 
fuls, like  the  Egyptians,  without  counting  ; and  though, 
as  time  goes  on,  there  is  exercise  for  his  argumentative 
powers  in  the  Elements  of  Mathematics,  and  for  his 
taste  in  the  Poets  and  Orators,  still,  while  at  school,  or 
at  least,  till  quite  the  last  years  of  his  time,  he  acquires, 
and  little  more  ; and  when  he  is  leaving  for  the  Univer- 
sity, he  is  mainly  the  creature  of  foreign  influences  and 
circumstances,  and  made  up  of  accidents,  homogeneous 
or  not,  as  the  case  may  be.  Moreover,  the  moral  habits, 
which  are  a boy's  praise,  encourage  and  assist  this 
result ; that  is,  diligence,  assiduity,  regularity,  despatch, 
persevering  application;  for  these  are  the  direct  conditions 
of  acquisition,  and  naturally  lead  to  it.  Acquirements, 
again,  are  emphatically  producible,  and  at  a moment ; 
they  are  a something  to  show,  both  for  master  and 
scholar ; an  audience,  even  though  ignorant  themselves 
of  the  subjects  of  an  examination,  can  comprehend  | 
when  questions  are  answered  and  when  they  are  not.  | 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  JLearning.  I2g 

Here  again  is  a reason  why  mental  culture  is  in  the  minds 
of  men  identified  with  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 

The  same  notion  possesses  the  public  mind,  when  it 
passes  on  from  the  thought  of  a school  to  that  of  a 
University  : and  with  the  best  of  reasons  so  far  as  this, 
that  there  is  no  true  culture  without  acquirements,  and 
that  philosophy  presupposes  knowledge.  It  requires  a 
great  deal  of  reading,  or  a wide  range  of  information,  to 
warrant  us  in  putting  forth  our  opinions  on  any  serious 
subject ; and  without  such  learning  the  most  original 
mind  may  be  able  indeed  to  dazzle,  to  amuse,  to 
refute,  to  perplex,  but  not  to  come  to  any  useful  result 
or  any  trustworthy  conclusion.  There  are  indeed  persons 
who  profess  a different  view  of  the  matter,  and  even 
act  upon  it.  Every  now  and  then  you  will  find  a 
person  of  vigorous  or  fertile  mind,  who  relies  upon  his 
own  resources,  despises  all  former  authors,  and  gives  the 
world,  with  the  utmost  fearlessness,  his  views  upon 
religion,  or  history,  or  any  other  popular  subject.  And 
his  works  may  sell  for  a while ; he  may  get  a name  in 
his  day ; but  this  will  be  all.  His  readers  are  sure  to 
find  on  the  long  run  that  his  doctrines  are  mere  theories, 
and  not  the  expression  of  facts,  that  they  are  chaff  in* 
stead  of  bread,  and  then  his  popularity  drops  as  suddenly 
as  it  rose. 

Knowledge  then  is  the  indispensable  condition  of 
expansion  of  mind,  and  the  instrument  of  attaining  to  it ; 
this  cannot  be  denied,  it  is  ever  to  be  insisted  on ; 1 
begin  with  it  as  a first  principle ; however,  the  very  truth 
of  it  carries  men  too  far,  and  confirms  to  them  the  notion 
that  it  is  the  whole  of  the  matter.  A narrow  mind  is 
thought  to  be  that  which  contains  little  knowledge ; and 
an  enlarged  mind,  that  which  holds  a great  deal;  and 
what  seems  to  put  the  matter  beyond  dispute  is,  the 

9 


130 


Discourse  VL 


fact  of  the  great  number  of  studies  which  are  pursued 
in  a University,  by  its  very  profession.  Lectures  are 
given  on  every  kind  of  subject;  examinations  are  held; 
prizes  awarded.  There  are  moral,  metaphysical,  phy- 
sical Professors ; Professors  of  languages,  of  history, 
of  mathematics,  of  experimental  science.  Lists  of  ques- 
tions are  published,  wonderful  for  their  range  and 
depth,  variety  and  difficulty ; treatises  are  written,  which 
carry  upon  their  very  face  the  evidence  of  extensive 
reading  or  multifarious  information ; what  then  is  want- 
ing for  mental  culture  to  a person  of  large  reading  and 
scientific  attainments  what  is  grasp  of  mind  but  ac- 
quirement.^ where  shall  philosophical  repose  be  found, 
but  in  the  consciousness  and  enjoyment  of  large  intel- 
lectual possessions } 

And  yet  this  notion  is,  I conceive,  a mistake,  and  my 
present  business  is  to  show  that  it  is  one,  and  that  the  end 
of  a Liberal  Education  is  not  mere  knowledge,  or  know- 
ledge considered  in  its  matter  ; and  I shall  best  attain  my 
object,  by  actually  setting  down  some  cases,  which  will 
be  generally  granted  to  be  instances  of  the  process  of 
enlightenment  or  enlargement  of  mind,  and  others  which 
are  not,  and  thus,  by  the  comparison,  you  will  be  able 
to  judge  for  yourselves,  Gentlemen,  whether  Knowledge, 
that  is,  acquirement,  is  after  all  the  real  principle  of  the 
enlargement,  or  whether  that  principle  is  not  rather 
something  beyond  it. 


4. 

For  instance,*  let  a person,  whose  experience  has 
hitherto  been  confined  to  the  more  calm  and  unpretend- 

* The  pages  which  follow  are  taken  almost  vei'latim  from  the  authors 
14th  (Oxford)  University  Sermon,  which,  at  the  time  of  writing  this 
Discourse,  he  did  not  expect  ever  to  reprint. 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning.  1 3 1 

ing  scenery  of  these  islands,  whether  here  or  in  England, 
go  for  the  first  time  into  parts  where  physical  nature 
puts  on  her  wilder  and  more  awful  forms,  whether  at 
home  or  abroad,  as  into  mountainous  districts ; or  let  one, 
who  has  ever  lived  in  a quiet  village,  go  for  the  first 
time  to  a great  metropolis, — then  I suppose  he  will  have 
a sensation  which  perhaps  he  never  had  before.  He  has 
a feeling  not  in  addition  or  increase  of  former  feelings, 
but  of  something  different  in  its  nature.  He  will  perhaps 
be  borne  forward,  and  find  for  a time  that  he  has  lost  his 
bearings.  He  has  made  a certain  progress,  and  he  has 
a consciousness  of  mental  enlargement ; he  does  not 
stand  where  he  did,  he  has  a new  centre,  and  a range  of 
thoughts  to  which  he  was  before  a stranger. 

Again,  the  view  of  the  heavens  which  the  telescope 
opens  upon  us,  if  allowed  to  fill  and  possess  the  mind, 
may  almost  whirl  it  round  and  make  it  dizzy.  It  brings 
in  a flood  of  ideas,  and  is  rightly  called  an  intellectual 
enlargement,  whatever  is  meant  by  the  term. 

And  so  again,  the  sight  of  beasts  of  prey  and  other 
foreign  animals,  their  strangeness,  the  originality  (if  I 
may  use  the  term)  of  their  forms  and  gestures  and  habits 
and  their  variety  and  independence  of  each  other,  throw 
us  out  of  ourselves  into  another  creation,  and  as  if  under 
another  Creator,  if  I may  so  express  the  temptation 
which  may  come  on  the  mind.  We  seem  to  have  new 
faculties,  or  a new  exercise  for  our  faculties,  by  this 
addition  to  our  knowledge ; like  a prisoner,  who,  having 
been  accustomed  to  wear  manacles  or  fetters,  suddenly 
finds  his  arms  and  legs  free. 

Hence  Physical  Science  generally,  in  all  its  depart- 
ments, as  bringing  before  us  the  exuberant  riches  and 
resources,  yet  the  orderly  course,  of  the  Universe,  elevates 
and  excites  the  student,  and  at  first,  I may  say,  almost 


132 


Discourse  VI. 


takes  away  his  breath,  while  in  time  it  exercises  a 
tranquilizing  influence  upon  him. 

Again,  the  study  of  history  is  said  to  enlarge  and 
enlighten  the  mind,  and  why } because,  as  I conceive,  it 
gives  it  a power  of  judging  of  passing  events,  and  of  all 
events,  and  a conscious  superiority  over  them,  which 
before  it  did  not  possess. 

And  in  like  manner,  what  is  called  seeing  the  world, 
entering  into  active  life,  going  into  society,  travelling, 
gaining  acquaintance  with  the  various  classes  of  the 
community,  coming  into  contact  with  the  principles  and 
modes  of  thought  of  various  parties,  interests,  and  races, 
their  views,  aims,  habits  and  manners,  their  religious 
creeds  and  forms  of  worship, — gaining  experience  how 
various  yet  how  alike  men  are,  how  low-minded,  how 
bad,  how  opposed,  yet  how  confident  in  their  opinions ; 
all  this  exerts  a perceptible  influence  upon  the  mind, 
which  it  is  impossible  to  mistake,  be  it  good  or  be  it 
bad,  and  is  popularly  called  its  enlargement. 

And  then  again,  the  first  time  the  mind  comes  across 
the  arguments  and  speculations  of  unbelievers,  and  feels 
what  a novel  light  they  cast  upon  what  he  has  hitherto 
accounted  sacred ; and  still  more,  if  it  gives  in  to  them 
and  embraces  them,  and  throws  off  as  so  much  prejudice 
what  it  has  hitherto  held,  and,  as  if  waking  from  a 
dream,  begins  to  realize  to  its  imagination  that  there  is 
now  no  such  thing  as  law  and  the  transgression  of  law, 
that  sin  is  a phantom,  and  punishment  a bugbear,  that  it 
is  free  to  sin,  free  to  enjoy  the  world  and  the  flesh  ; and 
still  further,  when  it  does  enjoy  them,  and  reflects  that 
it  may  think  and  hold  just  what  it  will,  that  the  world 
is  all  before  it  where  to  choose,”  and  what  system  to 
build  up  as  its  own  private  persuasion  ; when  this  torrent 
of  wilful  thoughts  rushes  over  and  inundates  it,  who  will 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learnmg,  133 

deny  that  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge,  or  what  the 
mind  takes  for  knowledge,  has  made  it  one  of  the  gods, 
with  a sense  of  expansion  and  elevation, — an  intoxication 
in  reality,  still,  so  far  as  the  subjective  state  of  the  mind 
goes,  an  illumination  ? Hence  the  fanaticism  of  individuals 
or  nations,  who  suddenly  cast  off  their  Maker.  Their  eyes 
are  opened  ; and,  like  the  judgment-stricken  king  in  the 
Tragedy,  they  see  two  suns,  and  a magic  universe,  out  of 
which  they  look  back  upon  their  former  state  of  faith  and 
innocence  with  a sort  of  contempt  and  indignation,  as  if 
they  were  then  but  fools,  and  the  dupes  of  imposture. 

On  the  other  hand.  Religion  has  its  own  enlargement, 
and  an  enlargement,  not  of  tumult,  but  of  peace.  It  is 
often  remarked  of  uneducated  persons,  who  have  hitherto 
thought  little  of  the  unseen  world,  that,  on  their  turning 
to  God,  looking  into  themselves,  regulating  their  hearts, 
reforming  their  conduct,  and  meditating  on  death  and 
judgment,  heaven  and  hell,  they  seem  to  become,  in 
point  of  intellect,  different  beings  from  what  they  were. 
Before,  they  took  things  as  they  came,  and  thought  no 
more  of  one  thing  than  another.  But  now  every  event 
has  a meaning ; they  have  their  own  estimate  of  whatever 
happens  to  them  ; they  are  mindful  of  times  and  seasons, 
and  compare  the  present  with  the  past ; and  the  world, 
no  longer  dull,  monotonous,  unprofitable,  and  hopeless, 
is  a various  and  complicated  drama,  with  parts  and  an 
object,  and  ana\vful  moral. 

5. 

Now  from  these  instances,  to  which  many  more  might 
be  added,  it  is  plain,  first,  that  the  communication  of 
knowledge  certainly  is  either  a condition  or  the  means 
of  that  sense  of  enlargement  or  enlightenment,  of  which 
at  this  day  we  hear  so  much  in  certain  quarters  : this 


134 


Discourse  VI. 


cannot  be  denied  ; but  next,  it  is  equally  plain,  that  such 
communication  is  not  the  whole  of  the  process.  The 
enlargement  consists,  not  merely  in  the  passive  reception 
into  the  mind  of  a number  of  ideas  hitherto  unknown  to 
it,  but  in  the  mind’s  energetic  and  simultaneous  action 
upon  and  towards  and  among  those  new  ideas,  which  are 
rushing  in  upon  it.  It  is  the  action  of  a formative  power, 
reducing  to  order  and  meaning  the  matter  of  our  acquire- 
ments ; it  is  a making  the  objects  of  our  knowledge 
subjectively  our  own,  or,  to  use  a familiar  word,  it  is  a 
digestion  of  what  we  receive,  into  the  substance  of  our 
previous  state  of  thought ; and  without  this  no  enlarge- 
ment is  said  to  follow.  There  is  no  enlargement,  unless 
there  be  a comparison  of  ideas  one  with  another,  as  they 
come  before  the  mind,  and  a systematizing  of  them. 
We  feel  our  minds  to  be  growing  and  expanding  theUy 
when  we  not  only  learn,  but  refer  what  we  learn  to  what 
we  know  already.  It  is  not  the  mere  addition  to  our 
knowledge  that  is  the  illumination  ; but  the  locomotion, 
the  movement  onwards,  of  that  mental  centre,  to  which 
both  what  we  know,  and  what  we  are  learning,  the  ac- 
cumulating mass  of  our  acquirements,  gravitates.  And 
therefore  a truly  great  intellect,  and  recognized  to  be 
such  by  the  common  opinion  of  mankind,  such  as  the 
intellect  of  Aristotle,  or  of  St.  Thomas,  or  of  Newton,  or 
of  Goethe,  (I  purposely  take  instances  within  and  with- 
out the  Catholic  pale,  when  I would  speak  of  the  intellect 
as  such,)  is  one  which  takes  a connected  view  of  old  and 
new,  past  and  present,  far  and  near,  and  which  has  an 
insight  into  the  influence  of  all  these  one  on  another; 
without  which  there  is  no  whole,  and  no  centre.  It 
possesses  the  knowledge,  not  only  of  things,  but  also  of 
their  mutual  and  true  relations  ; knowledge,  not  merely 
considered  as  acquirement,  but  as  philosophy. 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning.  135 

Accordingly,  when  this  analytical,  distributive,  har- 
monizing process  is  away,  the  mind  experiences  no 
enlargement,  and  is  not  reckoned  as  enlightened  or 
comprehensive,  whatever  it  may  add  to  its  knowledge. 
For  instance,  a great  memory,  as  I have  already  said, 
does  not  make  a philosopher,  any  more  than  a dictionary 
can  be  called  a grammar.  There  are  men  who  embrace 
in  their  minds  a vast  multitude  of  ideas,  but  with  little 
sensibility  about  their  real  relations  towards  each  other. 
These  may  be  antiquarians,  annalists,  naturalists ; they 
may  be  learned  in  the  law;  they  may  be  versed  in 
statistics ; they  are  most  useful  in  their  own  place ; I 
should  shrink  from  speaking  disrespectfully  of  them  ; 
still,  there  is  nothing  in  such  attainments  to  guarantee 
the  absence  of  narrowness  of  mind.  If  they  are  nothing 
more  than  well-read  men,  or  men  of  information,  they 
have  not  what  specially  deserves  the  name  of  culture  of 
mind,  or  fulfils  the  type  of  Liberal  Education. 

In  like  manner,  we  sometimes  fall  in  with  persons  who 
have  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  of  the  men  who,  in 
their  day,  have  played  a conspicuous  part  in  it,  but  who 
generalize  nothing,  and  have  no  observation,  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word.  They  abound  in  information  in 
detail,  curious  and  entertaining,  about  men  and  things  ; 
and,  having  lived  under  the  influence  of  no  very  clear  or 
settled  principles,  religious  or  political,  they  speak  of 
every  one  and  every  thing,  only  as  so  many  phenomena, 
which  are  complete  in  themselves,  and  lead  to  nothing, 
not  discussing  them,  or  teaching  any  truth,  or  instructing 
the  hearer,  but  simply  talking.  No  one  would  say  that 
these  persons,  well  informed  as  they  are,  had  attained  to 
any  great  culture  of  intellect  or  to  philosophy. 

The  case  is  the  same  still  more  strikingly  where  the 
persons  in  question  are  beyond  dispute  men  of  inferior 


Discourse  VI. 


136 

powers  and  deficient  education.  Perhaps  they  have 
been  much  in  foreign  countries,  and  they  receive,  in  a 
passive,  otiose,  unfruitful  way,  the  various  facts  which  are 
forced  upon  them  there.  Seafaring  men,  for  example, 
range  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the  other ; but  the 
multiplicity  of  external  objects,  which  they  have  encoun- 
tered, forms  no  symmetrical  and  consistent  picture  upon 
their  imagination ; they  see  the  tapestry  of  human  life, 
as  it  were  on  the  wrong  side,  and  it  tells  no  story.  They 
sleep,  and  they  rise  up,  and  they  find  themselves,  now  in 
Europe,  now  in  Asia ; they  see  visions  of  great  cities  and 
wild  regions;  they  are  in  the  marts  of  commerce,  or  amid 
the  islands  of  the  South ; they  gaze  on  Pompey’s  Pillar, 
or  on  the  Andes ; and  nothing  which  meets  them  carries 
them  forward  or  backward,  to  any  idea  beyond  itself 
Nothing  has  a drift  or  relation  ; nothing  has  a history  or 
a promise.  Every  thing  stands  by  itself,  and  comes  and 
goes  in  its  turn,  like  the  shifting  scenes  of  a show,  which 
leave  the  spectator  where  he  was.  Perhaps  you  are  near 
such  a man  on  a particular  occasion,  and  expect  him  to 
be  shocked  or  perplexed  at  something  which  occurs; 
but  one  thing  is  much  the  same  to  him  as  another,  or,  if 
he  is  perplexed,  it  is  as  not  knowing  what  to  say,  whether 
it  is  right  to  admire,  or  to  ridicule,  or  to  disapprove, 
while  conscious  that  some  expression  of  opinion  is  ex- 
pected from  him  ; for  in  fact  he  has  no  standard  of  judg- 
ment at  all,  and  no  landmarks  to  guide  him  to  a conclu- 
sion. Such  is  mere  acquisition,  and,  I repeat,  no  one 
would  dream  of  calling  it  philosophy. 

6. 

Instances,  such  as  these,  confirm,  by  the  contrast,  the 
conclusion  I have  already  drawn  from  those  which  pre- 
ceded them.  That  only  is  true  enlargement  of  mind 


Kywwledge  viewed  in  Relaiio7i  to  Learning.  137 

which  is  the  power  of  viewing  many  things  at  once  as 
one  whole,  of  referring  them  severally  to  their  true  place 
in  the  universal  system,  of  understanding  their  respective 
values,  and  determining  their  mutual  dependence.  Thus 
is  that  form  of  Universal  Knowledge,  of  which  I have  on 
a former  occasion  spoken,  set  up  in  the  individual  intel- 
lect, and  constitutes  its  perfection.  Possessed  of  this 
real  illumination,  the  mind  never  views  any  part  of  the 
extended  subject-matter  of  Knowledge  without  recol- 
lecting that  it  is  but  a part,  or  without  the  associations 
which  spring  from  this  recollection.  It  makes  every 
thing  in  some  sort  lead  to  every  thing  else ; it  would 
communicate  the  image  of  the  whole  to  every  separate 
portion,  till  that  whole  becomes  in  imagination  like  a 
spirit,  every  where  pervading  and  penetrating  its  com- 
ponent parts,  and  giving  them  one  definite  meaning. 
Just  as  our  bodily  organs,  when  mentioned,  recall  their 
function  in  the  body,  as  the  word  creation ''  suggests 
the  Creator,  and  ^‘subjects*'  a sovereign,  so,  in  the  mind 
of  the  Philosopher,  as  we  are  abstractedly  conceiving  of 
him,  the  elements  of  the  physical  and  moral  world, 
sciences,  arts,  pursuits,  ranks,  offices,  events,  opinions, 
individualities,  are  all  viewed  as  one,  with  correlative 
functions,  and  as  gradually  by  successive  combinations 
converging,  one  and  all,  to  the  true  centre. 

To  have  even  a portion  of  this  illuminative  reason  and 
true  philosophy  is  the  highest  state  to  which  nature  can 
aspire,  in  the  way  of  intellect ; it  puts  the  mind  above 
the  influences  of  chance  and  necessity,  above  anxiety, 
suspense,  unsettlement,  and  superstition,  which  is  the  lot 
of  the  many.  Men,  whose  minds  are  possessed  with 
some  one  object,  take  exaggerated  views  of  its  impor- 
tance, are  feverish  in  the  pursuit  of  it,  make  it  the 
measure  of  things  which  are  utterly  foreign  to  it,  and 


Discourse  VL 


138 

are  startled  and  despond  if  it  happens  to  fail  them. 
They  are  ever  in  alarm  or  in  transport.  Those  on  the 
other  hand  who  have  no  object  or  principle  whatever  to 
hold  by,  lose  their  way,  every  step  they  take.  They  are 
thrown  out,  and  do  not  know  what  to  think  or  say,  at 
every  fresh  juncture;  they  have  no  view  of  persons,  or 
occurrences,  or  facts,  which  come  suddenly  upon  them, 
and  they  hang  upon  the  opinion  of  others,  for  want  of 
internal  resources.  But  the  intellect,  which  has  been 
disciplined  to  the  perfection  of  its  powers,  which  knows, 
and  thinks  while  it  knows,  which  has  learned  to  leaven 
the  dense  mass  of  facts  and  events  with  the  elastic  force 
of  reason,  such  an  intellect  cannot  be  partial,  cannot  be 
exclusive,  cannot  be  impetuous,  cannot  be  at  a loss,  cannot 
but  be  patient,  collected,  and  majestically  calm,  because  it 
discerns  the  end  in  every  beginning,  the  origin  in  every 
end,  the  law  in  eveiy  interruption,  the  limit  in  each  delay  ; 
because  it  ever  knows  where  it  stands,  and  how  its  path  lies 
from  one  point  to  another.  It  is  the  rerpaywvog  of  the 
Peripatetic,  and  has  the  nil  admirari  ” of  the  Stoic, — 

Felix  qui  potuit  renim  cognoscere  causas, 

Atque  metus  omnes,  et  inexorabile  fatum 

Subjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari. 

There  are  men  who,  when  in  difficulties,  originate  at  the 
moment  vast  ideas  or  dazzling  projects ; who,  under  the 
influence  of  excitement,  are  able  to  cast  a light,  almost 
as  if  from  inspiration,  on  a subject  or  course  of  action 
which  comes  before  them  ; who  have  a sudden  presence 
of  mind  equal  to  any  emergency,  rising  with  the  occasion, 
and  an  undaunted  magnanimous  bearing,  and  an  energy 
and  keenness  which  is  but  made  intense  by  opposition. 
This  is  genius,  this  is  heroism  ; it  is  the  exhibition  of  a 
natural  gift,  which  no  culture  can  teach,  at  which  no 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning,  139 

Institution  can  aim ; here,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  con- 
cerned, not  with  mere  nature,  but  with  training  and 
teaching.  That  perfection  of  the  Intellect,  which  is  the 
result  of  Education,  and  its  beau  ideal^  to  be  imparted 
to  individuals  in  their  respective  measures,  is  the  clear, 
calm,  accurate  vision  and  comprehension  of  all  things, 
as  far  as  the  finite  mind  can  embrace  them,  each  in  its 
place,  and  with  its  own  characteristics  upon  it.  It  is 
almost  prophetic  from  its  knowledge  of  history  ; it  is 
almost  heart-searching  from  its  knowledge  of  human 
nature ; it  has  almost  supernatural  charity  from  its 
freedom  from  littleness  and  prejudice  ; it  has  almost  the 
repose  of  faith,  because  nothing  can  startle  it ; it  has 
almost  the  beauty  and  harmony  of  heavenly  contem- 
plation, so  intimate  is  it  with  the  eternal  order  of  things 
and  the  music  of  the  spheres. 


7- 

And  now,  if  I may  take  for  granted  that  the  true  and 
adequate  end  of  intellectual  training  and  of  a University 
is  not  Learning  or  Acquirement,  but  rather,  is  Thought 
or  Reason  exercised  upon  Knowledge,  or  what  may  be 
called  Philosophy,  I shall  be  in  a position  to  explain  the 
various  mistakes  which  at  the  present  day  beset  the 
subject  of  University  Education. 

I say  then,  if  we  would  improve  the  intellect,  first  of 
all,  we  must  ascend  ; we  cannot  gain  real  knowledge  on 
a level ; we  must  generalize,  we  must  reduce  to  method, 
we  must  have  a grasp  of  principles,  and  group  and  shape 
our  acquisitions  by  means  of  them.  It  matters  not 
whether  our  field  of  operation  be  wide  or  limited  ; in 
every  case,  to  command  it,  is  to  mount  above  it.  Who 
has  not  felt  the  irritation  of  mind  and  impatience 
created  by  a deep,  rich  country,  visited  for  the  first  time, 


140 


Discourse  VL 


with  winding  lanes,  and  high  hedges,  and  green  steeps, 
and  tangled  woods,  and  every  thing  smiling  indeed,  but 
in  a maze  ? The  same  feeling  comes  upon  us  in  a strange 
city,  when  we  have  no  map  of  its  streets.  Hence  you 
hear  of  practised  travellers,  when  they  first  come  into  a 
place,  mounting  some  high  hill  or  church  tower,  by  way 
of  reconnoitring  its  neighbourhood.  In  like  manner,  you 
must  be  above  your  knowledge,  not  under  it,  or  it  will 
oppress  you ; and  the  more  you  have  of  it,  the  greater 
will  be  the  load.  The  learning  of  a Salmasius  or  a 
Burman,  unless  you  are  its  master,  will  be  your  tyrant 
‘‘  Imperat  aut  servit ; ” if  you  can  wield  it  with  a strong 
arm.,  it  is  a great  weapon  ; otherwise, 

Vis  consili  expers 

Mole  ruit  sua. 

You  will  be  overwhelmed,  like  Tarpeia,  by  the  heavy 
wealth  which  you  have  exacted  from  tributary 
generations. 

Instances  abound ; there  are  authors  who  are  as 
pointless  as  they  are  inexhaustible  in  their  literary 
resources.  They  measure  knowledge  by  bulk,  as  it  lies 
in  the  rude  block,  without  symmetry,  without  design. 
How  many  commentators  are  there  on  the  Classics,  how 
many  on  Holy  Scripture,  from  whom  we  rise  up,  won- 
dering at  the  learning  which  has  passed  before  us,  and 
wondering  why  it  passed  ! How  many  writers  are  there 
of  Ecclesiastical  History,  such  as  Mosheim  or  Du  Pin, 
who,  breaking  up  their  subject  into  details,  destroy  its 
life,  and  defraud  us  of  the  whole  by  their  anxiety  about 
the  parts  ! The  Sermons,  again,  of  the  English  Divines 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  how  often  are  they  mere 
repertories  of  miscellaneous  and  officious  learning  ! Of 
course  Catholics  also  may  read  without  thinking  ; and 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning.  14 1 

in  their  case,  equally  as  with  Protestants,  it  holds  good, 
that  such  knowledge  is  unworthy  of  the  name,  knowledge 
which  they  have  not  thought  through,  and  thought  out 
Such  readers  are  only  possessed  by  their  knowledge,  not 
possessed  of  it  ; nay,  in  matter  of  fact  they  are  often 
even  carried  away  by  it,  without  any  volition  of  their 
own.  Recollect,  the  Memory  can  tyrannize,  as  well  as 
the  Imagination.  Derangement,  I believe,  has  been 
considered  as  a loss  of  control  over  the  sequence  of 
ideas.  l‘he  mind,  once  set  in  motion,  is  henceforth 
deprived  of  the  power  of  initiation,  and  becomes  the 
victim  of  a train  of  associations,  one  thought  suggesting 
another,  in  the  way  of  cause  and  effect,  as  if  by  a 
mechanical  process,  or  some  physical  necessity.  No 
one,  who  has  had  experience  of  men  of  studious  habits, 
but  must  recognize  the  existence  of  a parallel  phe- 
nomenon in  the  case  of  those  who  have  over-stimulated 
the  Memory.  In  such  persons  Reason  acts  almost  as 
feebly  and  as  impotently  as  in  the  madman  ; once  fairly 
started  on  any  subject  whatever,  they  have  no  power  of 
self-control  ; they  passively  endure  the  succession  of 
impulses  which  are  evolved  out  of  the  original  exciting 
cause  ; they  are  passed  on  from  one  idea  to  another  and 
go  steadily  forward,  plodding  along  one  line  of  thought 
in  spite  of  the  amplest  concessions  of  the  hearer,  or  wan- 
dering from  it  in  endless  digression  in  spite  of  his  remon- 
strances. Now,  if,  as  is  very  certain,  no  one  would  envy  the 
madman  the  glow  and  originality  of  his  conceptions,  why 
must  we  extol  the  cultivation  of  that  intellect,  which  is 
the  prey,  not  indeed  of  barren  fancies  but  of  barren  facts, 
of  random  intrusions  from  without,  though  not  of  morbid 
imaginations  from  within  "i  And  in  thus  speaking,  I am 
not  denying  that  a strong  and  ready  memory  is  in  itself 
a real  treasure ; I am  not  disparaging  a well-stored 


142 


Discourse  VL 


mind,  though  it  be  nothing  besides,  provided  it  be  sober, 
any  more  than  I would  despise  a bookseller’s  shop : — it 
is  of  great  value  to  others,  even  when  not  so  to  the 
owner.  Nor  am  I banishing,  far  from  it,  the  possessors 
of  deep  and  multifarious  learning  from  my  ideal 
University  ; they  adorn  it  in  the  eyes  of  men  ; I do  but 
say  that  they  constitute  no  type  of  the  results  at  which 
it  aims  ; that  it  is  no  great  gain  to  the  intellect  to  have 
enlarged  the  memory  at  the  expense  of  faculties  which 
are  indisputably  higher. 

8. 

Nor  indeed  am  I supposing  that  there  is  any  great 
danger,  at  least  in  this  day,  of  over-education;  the  danger  ‘ 
is  on  the  other  side.  I will  tell  you.  Gentlemen,  what  has  ; 
been  the  practical  error  of  the  last  twenty  years, — not  to  \ 
load  the  memory  of  the  student  with  a mass  of  undigested 
knowledge,  but  to  force  upon  him  so  much  that  he  has 
rejected  all.  It  has  been  the  error  of  distracting  and 
enfeebling  the  mind  by  an  unmeaning  profusion  of , 
subjects;  of  implying  that  a smattering  in  a dozen) 
branches  of  study  is  not  shallowness,  which  it  really  is,  \ 
but  enlargement,  which  it  is  not ; of  considering  an  ac-  | 
quaintance  with  the  learned  names  of  things  and  persons,  1 
and  the  possession  of  clever  duodecimos,  and  attendance 
on  eloquent  lecturers,  and  membership  v/ith  scientific  in- 
stitutions, and  the  sight  of  the  experiments  of  a platform 
and  the  specimens  of  a museum,  that  all  this  was  not 
dissipation  of  mind,  but  progress.  All  things  now  are  to 
be  learned  at  once,  not  first  one  thing,  then  another,  not 
one  well,  but  many  badly.  Learning  is  to  be  without  : 
exertion,  without  attention,  without  toil  ; without  ground-  i 
ing,  without  advance,  without  finishing.  There  is  to  be  i 
nothing  individual  in  it;  and  this, forsooth,  is  the  wonder  ; 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning,  143 

of  the  age.  What  the  steam  engine  does  with  matter, 
the  printing  press  is  to  do  with  mind ; it  is  to  act 
mechanically,  and  the  population  is  to  be  passively,  almost 
unconsciously  enlightened,  by  the  mere  multiplication 
and  dissemination  of  volumes.  Whether  it  be  the 
school  boy,  or  the  school  girl,  or  the  youth  at  college, 
or  the  mechanic  in  the  town,  or  the  politician  in  the 
senate,  all  have  been  the  victims  in  one  way  or  other  of 
this  most  preposterous  and  pernicious  of  delusions. 
Wise  men  have  lifted  up  their  voices  in  vain;  and  at 
length,  lest  their  own  institutions  should  be  outshone 
and  should  disappear  in  the  folly  of  the  hour,  they  have 
been  obliged,  as  far  as  they  could  with  a good  conscience, 
to  humour  a spirit  which  they  could  not  withstand,  and 
make  temporizing  concessions  at  which  they  could  not 
but  inwardly  smile. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that,  because  I so  speak, 
therefore  I have  some  sort  of  fear  of  the  education  of  the 
people : on  the  contrary,  the  more  education  they  have, 
the  better,  so  that  it  is  really  education.  Nor  am  I an 
enemy  to  the  cheap  publication  of  scientific  and  literary 
works,  which  is  now  in  vogue:  on  the  contrary,  I consider 
it  a great  advantage,  convenience,  and  gain ; that  is,  to 
those  to  whom  education  has  given  a capacity  for  using 
them.  Further,  I consider  such  innocent  recreations  as 
science  and  literature  are  able  to  furnish  will  be  a very 
fit  occupation  of  the  thoughts  and  the  leisure  of  young 
persons,  and  may  be  made  the  means  of  keeping  them 
from  bad  employmonts  and  bad  companions.  Moreover, 
as  to  that  superficial  acquaintance  with  chemistry,  and 
geology,  and  astronomy,  and  political  economy,  and 
modern  history,  and  biography,  and  other  branches  of 
knowledge,  which  periodical  literature  and  occasional 
lectures  and  scientific  institutions  diffuse  through  the 


144 


Discourse  VL 


community,  I think  it  a graceful  accomplishment,  and 
a suitable,  nay,  in  this  day  a necessary  accomplishment, 
in  the  case  of  educated  men.  Nor,  lastly,  am  I dis- 
paraging or  discouraging  the  thorough  acquisition  of 
any  one  of  these  studies,  or  denying  that,  as  far  as  it 
goes,  such  thorough  acquisition  is  a real  education  of 
the  mind.  All  I say  is,  call  things  by  their  right  names, 
and  do  not  confuse  together  ideas  which  are  essentially 
different.  A thorough  knowledge  of  one  science  and  a 
superficial  acquaintance  with  many,  are  not  the  same 
thing ; a smattering  of  a hundred  things  or  a memory 
for  detail,  is  not  a philosophical  or  comprehensive  view. 
Recreations  are  not  education ; accomplishments  are 
not  education.  Do  not  say,  the  people  must  be  edu- 
cated, when,  after  all,  you  only  mean,  amused,  refreshed, 
soothed,  put  into  good  spirits  and  good  humour,  or  kept 
from  vicious  excesses.  I do  not  say  that  such  amuse- 
ments, such  occupations  of  mind,  are  not  a great  gain  ; 
but  they  are  not  education.  You  may  as  well  call  draw- 
ing and  fencing  education,  as  a general  knowledge  of 
botany  or  conchology.  Stuffing  birds  or  playing  stringed 
instruments  is  an  elegant  pastime,  and  a resource  to  the 
idle,  but  it  is  not  education  ; it  does  not  form  or  cultivate 
the  intellect.  Education  is  a high  word ; it  is  the  prepara- 
tion for  knowledge,  and  it  is  the  imparting  of  knowledge 
in  proportion  to  that  preparation.  We  require  intellec- 
tual eyes  to  know  withal,  as  bodily  eyes  for  sight.  We 
need  both  objects  and  organs  intellectual ; we  cannot 
gain  them  without  setting  about  it ; we  cannot  gain 
them  in  our  sleep,  or  by  hap-hazard.  The  best  telescope 
does  not  dispense  with  eyes ; the  printing  press  or  the 
lecture  room  will  assist  us  greatly,  but  we  must  be  true 
to  ourselves,  we  must  be  parties  in  the  work.  A Uni- 
versity is,  according  to  the  usual  designation,  an  Alma 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning.  145 

Mater,  knowing  her  children  one  by  one,  not  a foundry, 
or  a mint,  or  a treadmill. 


9- 

I protest  to  you.  Gentlemen,  that  if  I had  to  choose 
between  a so-called  University,  which  dispensed  with 
residence  and  tutorial  superintendence,  and  gave  its 
degrees  to  any  person  who  passed  an  examination  in  a 
wide  range  of  subjects,  and  a University  which  had  no 
professors  or  examinations  at  all,  but  merely  brought  a 
number  of  young  men  together  for  three  or  four  years, 
and  then  sent  them  away  as  the  University  of  Oxford  is 
said  to  have  done  some  sixty  years  since,  if  I were  asked 
which  of  these  two  methods  was  the  better  discipline  of 
the  intellect, — mind,  I do  not  say  which  is  morally  the 
better,  for  it  is  plain  that  compulsory  study  must  be  a 
good  and  idleness  an  intolerable  mischief, — but  if  I 
must  determine  which  of  the  two  courses  was  the  more 
successful  in  training,  moulding,  enlarging  the  mind, 
which  sent  out  men  the  more  fitted  for  their  secular 
duties,  which  produced  better  public  men,  men  of  the 
world,  men  whose  names  would  descend  to  posterity,  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  giving  the  preference  to  that  Uni- 
versity which  did  nothing,  over  that  which  exacted  of  its 
members  an  acquaintance  with  every  science  under  the 
sun.  And,  paradox  as  this  may  seem,  still  if  results  be 
the  test  of  systems,  the  influence  of  the  public  schools 
and  colleges  of  England,  in  the  course  of  the  last  century, 
at  least  will  bear  out  one  side  of  the  contrast  as  I have 
drawn  it.  What  would  come,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the 
ideal  systems  of  education  which  have  fascinated  the 
imagination  of  this  age,  could  they  ever  take  effect,  and 
whether  they  would  not  produce  a generation  frivolous, 
narrow-minded,  and  resourceless,  intellectually  considered, 

10 


146 


Discourse  VI. 


is  a fair  subject  for  debate  ; but  so  far  is  certain,  that  the 
Universities  and  scholastic  establishments,  to  which  I 
refer,  and  which  did  little  more  than  bring  together  first 
hoys  and  then  youths  in  large  numbers,  these  institutions, 
with  miserable  deformities  on  the  side  of  morals,  with  a 
hollow  profession  of  Christianity,  and  a heathen  code 
of  ethics, — I say,  at  least  they  can  boast  of  a succession 
of  heroes  and  statesmen,  of  literary  men  and  philosophers, 
of  men  conspicuous  for  great  natural  virtues,  for  habits 
of  business,  for  knowledge  of  life,  for  practical  judgment, 
for  cultivated  tastes,  for  accomplishments,  who  have 
made  England  what  it  is, — able  to  subdue  the  earth, 
able  to  domineer  over  Catholics. 

How  is  this  to  be  explained } I suppose  as  follows  : 
When  a multitude  of  young  men,  keen,  open-hearted, 
sympathetic,  and  observant,  as  young  men  are,  come 
together  and  freely  mix  with  each  other,  they  are  sure  - 
to  learn  one  from  another,  even  if  there  be  no  one  to  i 
teach  them  ; the  conversation  of  all  is  a series  of  lectures  a 
to  each,  and  they  gain 'for  themselves  new  ideas  and  J 
views,  fresh  matter  of  thought,  and  distinct  principles  ^ 
for  judging  and  acting,  day  by  day.  An  infant  has  to  | 
learn  the  meaning  of  the  information  which  its  senses  t 
convey  to  it,  and  this  seems  to  be  its  employment.  It  ^ 
fancies  all  that  the  eye  presents  to  it  to  be  close  to  it,  j 
till  it  actually  learns  the  contrary,  and  thus  by  practice  | 
does  it  ascertain  the  relations  and  uses  of  those  first  | 
elements  of  knowledge  which  are  necessary  for  its  j 
animal  existence.  A parallel  teaching  is  necessary  for  3 
our  social  being,  and  it  is  secured  by  a large  school  or  a 
college ; and  this  effect  may  be  fairly  called  in  its  own  | 
department  an  enlargement  of  mind.  It  is  seeing  the  | 
world  on  a small  field  with  little  trouble ; for  the  t 
pupils  or  students  come  from  very  different  places,  and  M 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning.  147 

with  widely  different  notions,  and  there  is  much  to 
generalize,  much  to  adjust,  much  to  eliminate,  there  are 
inter-relations  to  be  defined,  and  conventional  rules  to 
be  established,  in  the  process,  by  which  the  whole 
assemblage  is  moulded  together,  and  gains  one  tone  and 
one  character. 

Let  it  be  clearly  understood,  I repeat  it,  that  I am  not 
taking  into  account  moral  or  religious  considerations  ; I 
am  but  saying  that  that  youthful  community  will  con- 
stitute a whole,  it  will  embody  a specific  idea,  it  will 
represent  a doctrine,  it  will  administer  a code  of  conduct, 
and  it  will  furnish  principles  of  thought  and  action.  It 
will  give  birth  to  a living  teaching,  which  in  course  of 
time  will  take  the  shape  of  a self-perpetuating  tradition, 
or  a genius  loci^  as  it  is  sometimes  called  ; which  haunts 
the  home  where  it  has  been  born,  and  which  imbues  and 
forms,  more  or  less,  and  one  by  one,  every  individual 
who  is  successively  brought  under  its  shadow.  Thus  it 
is  that,  independent  of  direct  instruction  on  the  part  of 
Superiors,  there  is  a sort  of  self-education  in  the  academic 
institutions  of  Protestant  England ; a characteristic  tone 
of  thought,  a recognized  standard  of  judgment  is  found 
in  them,  which,  as  developed  in  the  individual  who  is 
submitted  to  it,  becomes  a twofold  source  of  strength  to 
him,  both  from  the  distinct  stamp  it  impresses  on  his 
mind,  and  from  the  bond  of  union  which  it  creates 
between  him  and  others, — effects  which  are  shared  by 
the  authorities  of  the  place,  for  they  themselves  have 
been  educated  in  it,  and  at  all  times  are  exposed  to  the 
influence  of  its  ethical  atmosphere.  Here  then  is  a real 
teaching,  whatever  be  its  standards  and  principles,  true 
or  false  ; and  it  at  least  tends  towards  cultivation  of  the 
intellect ; it  at  least  recognizes  that  knowledge  is  some- 
thing more  than  a sort  of  passive  reception  of  scraps  and 


148 


Discourse  VL 


details  ; it  Is  a something,  and  it  does  a something,  which 
never  will  issue  from  the  most  strenuous  efforts  of  a set 
of  teachers,  with  no  mutual  sympathies  and  no  inter- 
communion, of  a set  of  examiners  with  no  opinions  which 
they  dare  profess,  and  with  no  common  principles,  who 
are  teaching  or  questioning  a set  of  youths  who  do  not 
know  them,  and  do  not  know  each  other,  on  a large 
number  of  subjects,  different  in  kind,  and  connected  by 
no  wide  philosophy,  three  times  a week,  or  three  times  a 
year,  or  once  in  three  years,  in  chill  lecture-rooms  or  on 
a pompous  anniversary. 


10. 

Nay,  self-education  in  any  shape,  in  the  most  restricted 
sense,  is  preferable  to  a system  of  teaching  which,  pro- 
fessing so  much,  really  does  so  little  for  the  mind.  Shut 
your  College  gates  against  the  votary  of  knowledge, 
throw  him  back  upon  the  searchings  and  the  efforts  of 
his  own  mind  ; he  will  gain  by  being  spared  an  entrance 
into  your  Babel.  Few  indeed  there  are  who  can  dis- 
pense with  the  stimulus  and  support  of  instructors,  or 
will  do  anything  at  all,  if  left  to  themselves.  And  fewer 
still  (though  such  great  minds  are  to  be  found),  who 
will  not,  from  such  unassisted  attempts,  contract  a self- 
reliance  and  a self-esteem,  which  are  not  only  moral 
evils,  but  serious  hindrances  to  the  attainment  of  truth. 
And  next  to  none,  perhaps,  or  none,  who  will  not  be 
reminded  from  time  to  time  of  the  disadvantage 
under  which  they  lie,  by  their  imperfect  grounding,  by 
the  breaks,  deficiencies,  and  irregularities  of  their  know- 
ledge, by  the  eccentricity  of  opinion  and  the  confusion 
of  principle  which  they  exhibit.  They  will  be  too  often 
ignorant  of  what  every  one  knows  and  takes  for  granted, 
of  that  multitude  of  small  truths  which  fall  upon  the 


Knowledge  viewed  in  Relation  to  Learning.  149 

mind  like  dust,  impalpable  and  ever  accumulating ; they 
may  be  unable  to  converse,  they  may  argue  perversely, 
they  may  pride  themselves  on  their  worst  paradoxes  or 
their  grossest  truisms,  they  may  be  full  of  their  own 
mode  of  viewing  things,  unwilling  to  be  put  out  of  their 
way,  slow  to  enter  into  the  minds  of  others  ; — but,  with 
these  and  whatever  other  liabilities  upon  their  heads, 
they  are  likely  to  have  more  thought,  more  mind,  more 
philosophy,  more  true  enlargement,  than  those  earnest 
but  ill-used  persons,  who  are  forced  to  load  their  minds 
with  a score  of  subjects  against  an  examination,  who 
have  too  much  on  their  hands  to  indulge  themselves  in 
thinking  or  investigation,  who  devour  premiss  and  con- 
clusion together  with  indiscriminate  greediness,  who 
hold  whole  sciences  on  faith,  and  commit  demonstra- 
tions to  memory,  and  who  too  often,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, when  their  period  of  education  is  passed,  throw 
up  all  they  have  learned  in  disgust,  having  gained 
nothing  really  by  their  anxious  labours,  except  perhaps 
the  habit  of  application. 

Yet  such  is  the  better  specimen  of  the  fruit  of  that 
ambitious  system  which  has  of  late  years  been  making 
way  among  us : for  its  result  on  ordinary  minds,  and  on 
the  common  run  of  students,  is  less  satisfactory  still ; 
they  leave  their  place  of  education  simply  dissipated 
and  relaxed  by  the  multiplicity  of  subjects,  which  they 
have  never  really  mastered,  and  so  shallow  as  not  even 
to  know  their  shallowness.  How  much  better,  I say,  is 
it  for  the  active  and  thoughtful  intellect,  where  such  is 
to  be  found,  to  eschew  the  College  and  the  University 
altogether,  than  to  submit  to  a drudgery  so  ignoble,  a 
mockery  so  contumelious ! How  much  more  profitable 
for  the  independent  mind,  after  the  mere  rudiments  of 
education,  to  range  through  a library  at  random,  taking 


150 


Discourse  VI. 


down  books  as  they  meet  him,  and  pursuing  the  trains 
of  thought  which  his  mother  wit  suggests  ! How  much 
healthier  to  wander  into  the  fields,  and  there  with  the 
exiled  Prince  to  find  tongues  in  the  trees,  books  in  the 
running  brooks  ! ” How  much  more  genuine  an  educa- 
tion is  that  of  the  poor  boy  in  the  Poem* — a Poem, 
whether  in  conception  or  in  execution,  one  of  the  most 
touching  in  our  language — who,  not  in  the  wide  world, 
but  ranging  day  by  day  around  his  widowed  mother’s 
home,  a dexterous  gleaner  ” in  a narrow  field,  and 
with  only  such  slender  outfit 

as  the  village  school  and  books  a few 
Supplied,” 

contrived  from  the  beach,  and  the  quay,  and  the  fisher’s 
boat,  and  the  inn’s  fireside,  and  the  tradesman’s  shop, 
and  the  shepherd’s  walk,  and  the  smuggler’s  hut,  and 
the  mossy  moor,  and  the  screaming  gulls,  and  the  rest- 
less waves,  to  fashion  for  himself  a philosophy  and  a 
poetry  of  his  own  ! 

But  in  a large  subject,  I am  exceeding  my  necessary 
limits.  Gentlemen,  I must  conclude  abruptly ; and 
postpone  any  summing  up  of  my  argument,  should  that 
be  necessary,  to  another  day. 

* Crabbe’s  Tales  of  the  Hall.  This  Poem,  let  me  say,  I read  on  its 
first  publication,  above  thirty  years  ago,  with  extreme  delight,  and  have 
never  lost  my  love  of  it ; and  on  taking  it  up  lately,  found  I was  even  more 
touched  by  it  than  heretofore.  A work  which  can  please  in  youth  and  age, 
seems  to  fulfil  (in  logical  language)  the  accidental  dejinition  of  a Classic. 
[A  further  course  of  twenty  years  has  past,  and  J bear  the  same  witness  in 
favour  of  this  Ppem,] 


DISCOURSE  VII. 


KNOWLEDGE  VIEWED  IN  RELATION  TO  PROFESSIONAL 
SKILL. 


I. 

I HAVE  been  insisting,  in  my  two  preceding  Dis- 
courses, first,  on  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect,  as 
an  end  which  may  reasonably  be  pursued  for  its  own 
sake ; and  next,  on  the  nature  of  that  cultivation,  or 
ivhat  that  cultivation  consists  in.  Truth  of  whatever 
kind  is  the  proper  object  of  the  intellect;  its  cultivation 
then  lies  in  fitting  it  to  apprehend  and  contemplate 
truth.  Now  the  intellect  in  its  present  state,  with 
exceptions  which  need  not  here  be  specified,  does  not 
discern  truth  intuitively,  or  as  a whole.  We  know,  not 
by  a direct  and  simple  vision,  not  at  a glance,  but,  as  it 
were,  by  piecemeal  and  accumulation,  by  a mental  pro- 
cess, by  going  round  an  object,  by  the  comparison,  the 
combination,  the  mutual  correction,  the  continual  adap- 
tation, of  many  partial  notions,  by  the  employment, 
concentration,  and  joint  action  of  many  faculties  and 
exercises  of  mind.  Such  a union  and  concert  of  the 
intellectual  powers,  such  an  enlargement  and  develop- 
ment, such  a comprehensiveness,  is  necessarily  a matter 
of  training.  And  again,  such  a training  is  a matter  of 
rule  ; it  is  not  mere  application,  however  exemplary, 
which  introduces  the  mind  to  truth,  nor  the  reading 


^52 


Discourse  VIL 


many  books,  nor  the  getting  up  many  subjects,  nor  the 
witnessing  many  experiments,  nor  the  attending  many 
lectures.  All  this  is  short  of  enough  ; a man  may  have 
done  it  all,  yet  be  lingering  in  the  vestibule  of  know- 
ledge : — he  may  not  realize  what  his  mouth  utters ; he 
may  not  see  with  his  mental  eye  what  confronts  him;  he 
may  have  no  grasp  of  things  as  they  are  ; or  at  least  he 
may  have  no  power  at  all  of  advancing  one  step  forward 
of  himself,  in  consequence  of  what  he  has  already  ac- 
quired, no  power  of  discriminating  between  truth  and 
falsehood,  of  sifting  out  the  grains  of  truth  from  the 
mass,  of  arranging  things  according  to  their  real  value, 
and,  if  I may  use  the  phrase,  of  building  up  ideas. 
Such  a power  is  the  result  of  a scientific  formation  of 
mind  ; it  is  an  acquired  faculty  of  judgment,  of  clear- 
sightedness, of  sagacity,  of  wisdom,  of  philosophical 
reach  of  mind,  and  of  intellectual  self-possession  and 
repose, — qualities  which  do  not  come  of  mere  acquire- 
ment. The  bodily  eye,  the  organ  for  apprehending 
material  objects,  is  provided  by  nature;  the  eye  of  the 
mind,  of  which  the  object  is  truth,  is  the  work  of  dis- 
cipline and  habit. 

This  process  of  training,  by  which  the  intellect, 
instead  of  being  formed  or  sacrificed  to  some  particular 
or  accidental  purpose,  some  specific  trade  or  profession, 
or  study  or  science,  is  disciplined  for  its  own  sake,  for 
the  perception  of  its  own  proper  object,  and  for  its  own 
highest  culture,  is  called  Liberal  Education  ; and  though 
there  is  no  one  in  whom  it  is  carried  as  far  as  is  con- 
ceivable, or  whose  intellect  would  be  a pattern  of  what 
intellects  should  be  made,  yet  there  is  scarcely  any  one 
but  may  gain  an  idea  of  what  real  training  is,  and  at 
least  look  towards  it,  and  make  its  true  scope  and 
result,  not  something  else,  his  standard  of  excellence  j 


Knowledge  and  Professioiial  Skill,  153 

and  numbers  there  are  who  may  submit  themselves  to  it, 
and  secure  it  to  themselves  in  good  measure.  And  to 
set  forth  the  right  standard,  and  to  train  according  to  it, 
and  to  help  forward  all  students  towards  it  according  to 
their  various  capacities,  this  I conceive  to  be  the  business 
of  a University. 


2. 

Now  this  is  what  some  great  men  are  very  slow  to 
allow ; they  insist  that  Education  should  be  confined  to 
some  particular  and  narrow  end,  and  should  issue  in 
some  definite  work,  which  can  be  weighed  and  measured. 
They  argue  as  if  every  thing,  as  well  as  every  person, 
had  its  price  ; and  that  where  there  has  been  a great 
outlay,  they  have  a right  to  expect  a return  in  kind. 
This  they  call  making  Education  and  Instruction 
‘‘useful,''  and  “ Utility " becomes  their  watchword. 
With  a fundamental  principle  of  this  nature,  they  very 
naturally  go  on  to  ask,  what  there  is  to  show  for  the 
expense  of  a University ; what  is  the  real  worth  in  the 
market  of  the  article  called  “ a Liberal  Education,"  on 
the  supposition  that  it  does  not  teach  us  definitely  how 
to  advance  our  manufactures,  or  to  improve  our  lands, 
or  to  better  our  civil  economy  ; or  again,  if  it  does  not 
at  once  make  this  man  a lawyer,  that  an  engineer,  and 
that  a surgeon  ; or  at  least  if  it  does  not  lead  to  dis 
coveries  in  chemistry,  astronomy,  geology,  magnetism, 
and  science  of  every  kind. 

This  question,  as  might  have  been  expected,  has  been 
keenly  debated  in  the  present  age,  and  formed  one  main 
subject  of  the  controversy,  to  which  I referred  in  the 
Introduction  to  the  present  Discourses,  as  having  been 
sustained  in  the  first  decade  of  this  century  by  a cele- 
brated Northern  Reyiew  on  the  one  hand,  and  defenders 


154 


Discourse  VIL 


of  the  University  of  Oxford  on  the  other.  Hardly  had 
the  authorities  of  that  ancient  seat  of  learning,  waking 
from  their  long  neglect,  set  on  foot  a plan  for  the  edu- 
cation of  the  youth  committed  to  them,  than  the  repre- 
sentatives of  science  and  literature  in  the  city,  which 
has  sometimes  been  called  the  Northern  Athens,  remon- 
strated, with  their  gravest  arguments  and  their  most 
brilliant  satire,  against  the  direction  and  shape  which 
the  reform  was  taking.  Nothing  would  content  them, 
but  that  the  University  should  be  set  to  rights  on  the 
basis  of  the  philosophy  of  Utility  ; a philosophy,  as 
they  seem  to  have  thought,  which  needed  but  to  be  pro- 
claimed in  order  to  be  embraced.  In  truth,  they  were 
little  aware  of  the  depth  and  force  of  the  principles  on 
which  the  academical  authorities  were  proceeding,  and, 
this  being  so,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  they  would 
be  allowed  to  walk  at  leisure  over  the  field  of  contro- 
versy which  they  had  selected.  Accordingly  they  were 
encountered  in  behalf  of  the  University  by  two  men  c\ 
great  name  and  influence  in  their  day,  of  very  different 
minds,  but  united,  as  by  Collegiate  ties,  so  in  the  clear- 
sighted and  large  view  which  they  took  of  the  whole 
subject  of  Liberal  Education ; and  the  defence  thus 
provided  for  the  Oxford  studies  has  kept  its  ground  to 
this  day. 

3* 

Let  me  be  allowed  to  devote  a few  words  to  the 
memory  of  distinguished  persons,  under  the  shadow  of 
whose  name  I once  lived,  and  by  whose  doctrine  I am  now 
profiting.  In  the  heart  of  Oxford  there  is  a small  plot 
of  ground,  hemmed  in  by  public  thoroughfares,  which  has 
been  the  possession  and  the  home  of  one  Society  for 
above  five  hundred  years.  In  the  old  time  of  Boniface 
the  Eighth  and  John  the  Twenty-second,  in  the  age  of 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill,  155 

Scotus  and  Occam  and  Dante,  before  Wiclif  or  Huss  had 
kindled  those  miserable  fires  which  are  still  raging  to  the 
ruin  of  the  highest  interests  of  man,  an  unfortunate  king 
of  England,  Edward  the  Second,  flying  from  the  field  of 
Bannockburn,  is  said  to  have  made  a vow  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin  to  found  a religious  house  in  her  honour,  if  he 
got  back  in  safety.  Prompted  and  aided  by  his 
Almoner,  he  decided  on  placing  this  house  in  the  city 
of  Alfred  ; and  the  Image  of  our  Lady,  which  is  oppo- 
site its  entrance-gate,  is  to  this  day  the  token  of  the 
vow  and  its  fulfilment.  King  and  Almoner  have  long 
been  in  the  dust,  and  strangers  have  entered  into  their 
inheritance,  and  their  creed  has  been  forgotten,  and 
their  holy  rites  disowned ; but  day  by  day  a memento  is 
still  made  in  the  holy  Sacrifice  by  at  least  one  Catholic 
Priest,  once  a member  of  that  College,  for  the  souls 
of  those  Catholic  benefactors  who  fed  him  there  for  so 
many  years.  The  visitor,  whose  curiosity  has  been 
excited  by  its  present  fame,  gazes  perhaps  with  some- 
thing of  disappointment  on  a collection  of  buildings 
which  have  with  them  so  few  of  the  circumstances  of 
dignity  or  wealth.  Broad  quadrangles,  high  halls  and 
chambers,  ornamented  cloisters,  stately  walks,  or  um- 
brageous gardens,  a throng  of  students,  ample  revenues, 
or  a glorious  history,  none  of  these  things  were  the 
portion  of  that  old  Catholic  foundation ; nothing  in 
short  which  to  the  common  eye  sixty  years  ago  would 
have  given  tokens  of  what  it  was  to  be.  But  it  had  at 
that  time  a spirit  working  within  it,  which  enabled  its 
inmates  to  do,  amid  its  seeming  insignificance,  what  no 
other  body  in  the  place  could  equal ; not  a very  abstruse 
gift  or  extraordinary  boast,  but  a rare  one,  the  honest 
purpose  to  administer  the  trust  committed  to  them  in 
such  a way  as  their  conscience  pointed  out  as  best.  So, 


Discourse  VIL 


156 

whereas  the  Colleges  of  Oxford  are  self-electing  bodies, 
the  fellows  in  each  perpetually  filling  up  for  themselves 
the  vacancies  which  occur  in  their  number,  the  members 
of  this  foundation  determined,  at  a time  when,  either 
from  evil  custom  or  from  ancient  statute,  such  a thing 
was  not  known  elsewhere,  to  throw  open  their  fellow- 
ships to  the  competition  of  all  comers,  and,  in  the  choice 
of  associates  henceforth,  to  cast  to  the  winds  every  per- 
sonal motive  and  feeling,  family  connexion,  and  friend- 
ship, and  patronage,  and  political  interest,  and  local 
claim,  and  prejudice,  and  party  jealousy,  and  to  elect 
solely  on  public  and  patriotic  grounds.  Nay,  with  a 
remarkable  independence  of  mind,  they  resolved  that 
even  the  table  of  honours,  awarded  to  literary  merit  by 
the  University  in  its  new  system  of  examination  for 
degrees,  should  not  fetter  their  judgment  as  electors  ; 
but  that  at  all  risks,  and  whatever  criticism  it  might 
cause,  and  whatever  odium  they  might  incur,  they 
would  select  the  men,  whoever  they  were,  to  be  children 
of  their  Founder,  w'hom  they  thought  in  their  consciences 
to  be  most  likely  from  their  intellectual  and  moral 
qualities  to  please  him,  if  (as  they  expressed  it)  he  were 
still  upon  earth,  most  likely  to  do  honour  to  his  College, 
most  likely  to  promote  the  objects  which  they  believed 
he  had  at  heart.  Such  persons  did  not  promise  to  be 
the  disciples  of  a low  Utilitarianism ; and  consequently, 
as  their  collegiate  reform  synchronized  with  that  reform 
of  the  Academical  body,  in  which  they  bore  a principal 
part,  it  was  not  unnatural  that,  when  the  storm  broke 
upon  the  University  from  the  North,  their  Alma  Mater, 
whom  they  loved,  should  have  found  her  first  defenders 
within  the  walls  of  that  small  College,  which  had  first 
put  itself  into  a condition  to  be  her  champion. 

These  defenders^  \ have  said,  were  two,  of  whom  the 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill,  157 

more  distinguished  was  the  late  Dr.  Copleston,  then  a 
Fellow  of  the  College,  successively  its  Provost,  and  Pro- 
testant  Bishop  of  Llandaff.  In  that  Society,  which  owes 
so  much  to  him,  his  name  lives,  and  ever  will  live,  for 
the  distinction  which  his  talents  bestowed  on  it,  for  the 
academical  importance  to  which  he  raised  it,  for  the 
generosity  of  spirit,  the  liberality  of  sentiment,  and  the 
kindness  of  heart,  with  which  he  adorned  it,  and  which 
even  those  who  had  least  sympathy  with  some  aspects 
of  his  mind  and  character  could  not  but  admire  and 
love.  Men  come  to  their  meridian  at  various  periods  of 
their  lives  ; the  last  years  of  the  eminent  person  I am 
speaking  of  were  given  to  duties  which,  I am  told,  have 
been  the  means  of  endearing  him  to  numbers,  but 
which  afforded  no  scope  for  that  peculiar  vigour  and 
keenness  of  mind  which  enabled  him,  when  a young 
man,  single-handed,  with  easy  gallantry,  to  encounter 
and  overthrow  the  charge  of  three  giants  of  the  North 
combined  against  him.  I believe  I am  right  in  saying 
that,  in  the  progress  of  the  controversy,  the  most 
scientific,  the  most  critical,  and  the  most  witty,  of  that 
literary  company,  all  of  them  now,  as  he  himself,  re- 
moved from  this  visible  scene,  Professor  Playfair,  Lord 
Jeffrey,  and  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  threw  together 
their  several  efforts  into  one  article  of  their  Review,  in 
order  to  crush  and  pound  to  dust  the  audacious  contro- 
vertist  who  had  come  out  against  them  in  defence  of 
his  own  Institutions.  To  have  even  contended  with 
such  men  was  a sufficient  voucher  for  his  ability,  even 
before  we  open  his  pamphlets,  and  have  actual  evidence 
of  the  good  sense,  the  spirit,  the  scholar-like  taste,  and 
the  purity  of  style,  by  which  they  are  distinguished. 

He  was  supported  in  the  controversy,  on  the  same 
general  principles,  but  with  more  of  method  and  distinct- 


158 


Discourse  VIL 


ness,  and,  I will  add,  with  greater  force  and  beauty  and 
perfection,  both  of  thought  and  of  language,  by  the  other 
distinguished  writer,  to  whom  I have  already  referred, 
Mr.  Davison  ; who,  though  not  so  well  known  to  the 
v/orld  in  his  day,  has  left  more  behind  him  than  the 
Provost  of  Oriel,  to  make  his  name  remembered  by  pos- 
terity. This  thoughtful  man,  who  was  the  admired  and 
intimate  friend  of  a very  remarkable  person,  whom, 
whether  he  wish  it  or  not,  numbers  revere  and  love  as 
the  first  author  of  the  subsequent  movement  in  the  Pro- 
testant Church  towards  Catholicism,*  this  grave  and 
philosophical  writer,  whose  works  I can  never  look  into 
without  sighing  that  such  a man  was  lost  to  the  Catholic 
Church,  as  Dr.  Butler  before  him,  by  some  early  bias  or 
some  fault  of  self-education — he,  in  a review  of  a work 
by  Mr.  Edgeworth  on  Professional  Education,  which 
attracted  a good  deal  of  attention  in  its  day,  goes  leisurely 
over  the  same  ground,  which  had  already  been  rapidly 
traversed  by  Dr.  Copleston,  and,  though  professedly  em- 
ployed upon  Mr.  Edgeworth,  is  really  replying  to  the 
northern  critic  who  had  brought  that  writer’s  work  into ' 
notice,  and  to  a far  greater  author  than  either  of  them, 
who  in  a past  age  had  argued  on  the  same  side. 

4 

The  author  to  whom  I allude  is  no  other  than  Locke. 
That  celebrated  philosopher  has  preceded  the  Edinburgh 
Reviewers  in  condemning  the  ordinary  subjects  in  which 
boys  are  instructed  at  school,  on  the  ground  that  they 
are  not  needed  by  them  in  after  life  ; and  before  quoting 
what  his  disciples  have  said  in  the  present  century,  I 
will  refer  to  a few  passages  of  the  master.  ‘‘  ’Tis  matter 

* Mr.  Keble,  Vicar  of  Hursley,  late  Fellow  of  Oriel,  and  Professor  of 
Poetry  in  the  University  of  Oxford. 


Knowledge  and  Pro/essto?tal  Skill.  159 

of  astonishment,”  he  says  in  his  work  on  Education, 
“that  men  of  quality  and  parts  should  suffer  themselves 
to  be  so  far  misled  by  custom  and  implicit  faith.  Reason, 
if  consulted  with,  would  advise,  that  their  children’s  time 
should  be  spent  in  acquiring  what  might  be  useful  to 
them,  when  they  come  to  be  men,  rather  than  that  their 
heads  should  be  stuffed  with  a deal  of  trash,  a great  part 
v.'hereof  they  usually  never  do  (’tis  certain  they  never 
need  to)  think  on  again  as  long  as  they  live ; and  so 
much  of  it  as  does  stick  by  them  they  are  only  the 
worse  for.” 

And  so  again,  speaking  of  verse-making,  he  says,  “ I 
know  not  what  reason  a father  can  have  to  wish  his  son 
a poet,  who  does  not  desire  him  to  bid  defiance  to  all 
other  callings  and  business ; which  is  not  yet  the  worst 
of  the  case ; for,  if  he  proves  a successful  rhymer,  and 
gets  once  the  reputation  of  a wit,  I desire  it  to  be  con- 
sidered, what  company  and  places  he  is  likely  to  spend 
his  time  in,  nay,  and  estate  too ; for  it  is  very  seldom 
seen  that  any  one  discovers  mines  of  gold  or  silver  in 
Parnassus.  ’Tis  a pleasant  air,  but  a barren  soil.” 

In  another  passage  he  distinctly  limits  utility  in  edu- 
cation to  its  bearing  on  the  future  profession  or  trade  of 
the  pupil,  that  is,  he  scorns  the  idea  of  any  education  of 
the  intellect,  simply  as  such.  “ Can  there  be  any  thing 
more  ridiculous,”  he  asks,  “than  that  a father  should 
waste  his  own  money,  and  his  son’s  time,  in  setting  him 
to  lear7t  the  Roman  lartguage,  when  at  the  same  time  he 
designs  him  for  a trade,  wherein  he,  having  no  use  of 
Latin,  fails  not  to  forget  that  little  which  he  brought 
from  school,  and  which  ’tis  ten  to  one  he  abhors  for  the 
ill-usage  it  procured  him  ? Could  it  be  believed,  unless 
we  have  every  where  amongst  us  examples  of  it,  that  a 
child  should  be  forced  to  learn  the  rudiments  of  a 


i6o 


Discourse  VIL 


language,  which  he  is  never  to  use  in  the  course  of  life  that 
he  is  designed  to,  and  neglect  all  the  while  the  writing 
a good  hand,  and  casting  accounts,  which  are  of  great 
advantage  in  all  conditions  of  life,  and  to  most  trades 
indispensably  necessary  ? ” Nothing  of  course  can  be 
more  absurd  than  to  neglect  in  education  those  matters 
which  are  necessary  for  a boy's  future  calling ; but  the 
tone  of  Locke’s  remarks  evidently  implies  more  than 
this,  and  is  condemnatory  of  any  teaching  which  tends 
to  the  general  cultivation  of  the  mind. 

Now  to  turn  to  his  modern  disciples.  The  study  of 
the  Classics  had  been  made  the  basis  of  the  Oxford 
education,  in  the  reforms  which  I have  spoken  of,  and 
the  Edinburgh  Reviewers  protested,  after  the  manner 
of  Locke,  that  no  good  could  come  of  a system  which 
was  not  based  upon  the  principle  of  Utility. 

''  Classical  Literature,”  they  said,  is  the  great  object 
at  Oxford.  Many  minds,  so  employed,  have  produced 
many  works  and  much  fame  in  that  department ; but  if 
all  liberal  arts  and  sciences,  useful  to  human  life^  had 
been  taught  there,  if  some  had  dedicated  themselves  to 
chemistry,  some  to  mathematics,  some  to  experimental 
philosophy,  and  if  every  attainment  had  been  honoured  in 
the  mixt  ratio  of  its  difficulty  and  utility,  the  system  of 
such  a University  would  have  been  much  more  valuable, 
but  the  splendour  of  its  name  something  less.” 

Utility  may  be  made  the  end  of  education,  in  two 
respects  : either  as  regards  the  individual  educated,  or  the 
community  at  large.  In  which  light  do  these  writers 
regard  it } in  the  latter.  So  far  they  differ  from  Locke, 
for  they  consider  the  advancement  of  science  as  the 
supreme  and  real  end  of  a University.  This  is  brought 
into  view  in  the  sentences  which  follow. 

When  a University  has  been  doing  useless  things  for 


Knowledge  a7id  Professional  Skill,  i6i 

a long  time,  it  appears  at  first  degrading  to  them  to  be 
nsefiiL  A set  of  Lectures  on  Political  Economy  would 
be  discouraged  in  Oxford,  probably  despised,  probably 
not  permitted.  To  discuss  the  inclosure  of  commons, 
and  to  dwell  upon  imports  and  exports,  to  come  so  near 
to  common  life,  would  seem  to  be  undignified  and  con- 
temptible. In  the  same  manner,  the  Parr  or  the  Bentley 
of  the  day  would  be  scandalized,  in  a University,  to  be 
put  on  a level  with  the  discoverer  of  a neutral  salt ; and 
yet,  what  other  measure  is  there  of  dignity  m intellectual 
labour  but  usefulness  ? And  what  ought  the  term 
University  to  mean,  but  a place  where  every  science 
is  taught  which  is  liberal,  and  at  the  same  time  useful 
to  mankind } Nothing  would  so  much  tend  to  bring 
classical  literature  within  proper  bounds  as  a steady  and 
invariable  appeal  to  utility  in  our  appreciation  of  all 
human  knowledge  ....  Looking  always  to  real  utility 
as  our  guidcy  we  should  see,  with  equal  pleasure,  a 
studious  and  inquisitive  mind  arranging  the  produc- 
tions of  nature,  investigating  the  qualities  of  bodies,  or 
mastering  the  difficulties  of  the  learned  languages.  We 
should  not  care  whether  he  was  chemist,  naturalist,  or 
scholar,  because  we  know  it  to  be  as  necessary  that 
matter  should  be  studied  and  subdued  to  the  use  of 
man,  as  that  taste  should  be  gratified,  and  imagination 
inflamed.” 

Such  then  is  the  enunciation,  as  far  as  words  go,  of  the 
theory  of  Utility  in  Education  ; and  both  on  its  own 
account,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  able  men  who  have 
advocated  it,  it  has  a claim  on  the  attention  of  those 
whose  principles  I am  here  representing.  Certainly  it  is 
specious  to  contend  that  nothing  is  worth  pursuing  but 
what  is  useful  ; and  that  life  is  not  long  enough  to  ex- 
pend upon  interesting,  or  curious,  or  brilliant  trifles, 

II 

I 


x62 


Discourse  VIL 


Nay,  in  one  sense,  I will  grant  it  is  more  than  specious, 
it  is  true  ; but,  if  so,  how  do  I propose  directly  to  meet 
the  objection  ? Why,  Gentlemen,  I have  really  met  it 
already,  viz.,  in  laying  down,  that  intellectual  culture  is 
its  own  end  ; for  what  has  its  end  in  itself,  has  its  use  in 
itself  also.  I say,  if  a Liberal  Education  consists  in  the 
culture  of  the  intellect,  and  if  that  culture  be  in  itself  a 
good,  here,  without  going  further,  is  an  answer  to  Locke’s 
question  ; for  if  a healthy  body  is  a good  in  itself,  why 
is  not  a healthy  intellect.^  and  if  a College  of  Physicians 
is  a useful  institution,  because  it  contemplates  bodily 
health,  why  is  not  an  Academical  Body,  though  it  were 
simply  and  solely  engaged  in  imparting  vigour  and 
beauty  and  grasp  to  the  intellectual  portion  of  our 
nature  ? And  the  Reviewers  I am  quoting  seem  to 
allow  this  in  their  better  moments,  in  a passage  which, 
putting  aside  the  question  of  its  justice  in  fact,  is  sound 
and  true  in  the  principles  to  which  it  appeals : — 

The  present  state  of  classical  education,”  they  say, 
cultivates  the  imagination  a great  deal  too  much, 
and  other  habits  of  mmd  a great  deal  too  little,  and 
trains  up  many  young  men  in  a style  of  elegant  imbe- 
cility, utterly  unworthy  of  the  talents  with  which  nature 
has  endowed  them  ....  The  matter  of  fact  is,  that  a 
classical  scholar  of  twenty-three  or  twenty-four  is  a man 
principally  conversant  with  works  of  imagination.  His 
feelings  are  quick,  his  fancy  lively,  and  his  taste  good. 
Talents  for  speculation  and  original  inquiry  he  has  none, 
nor  has  he  formed  the  invaluable  habit  of  pushing  things 
up  to  their  first  principles^  or  of  collecting  dry  and  un- 
amusing facts  as  the  materials  for  reasoning.  All  the 
solid  and  masculine  parts  of  his  understanding  are  left 
wholly  without  cultivation  ; he  hates  the  pain  of  thinking, 
^nd  suspects  every  man  whose  boldness  and  originality 


Knowledge  a7id Prof essional  Skill,  163 

call  upon  him  to  defend  his  opinions  and  prove  his 
assertions.” 


5. 

Now,  I am  not  at  present  concerned  with  the  specific 
question  of  classical  education  ; else,  I might  reasonably 
question  the  justice  of  calling  an  intellectual  discipline, 
which  embraces  the  study  of  Aristotle,  Thucydides,  and 
Tacitus,  which  involves  Scholarship  and  Antiquities, 
imaginative ; still  so  far  I readily  grant,  that  the  culti- 
vation of  the  understanding,”  of  a talent  for  specu- 
lation and  original  inquiry,”  and  of  the  habit  of  pushing 
things  up  to  their  first  principles,”  is  a principal  portion 
of  a good  or  liberal  education.  If  then  the  Reviewers 
consider  such  cultivation  the  characteristic  of  a useful 
education,  as  they  seem  to  do  in  the  foregoing  passage, 
it  follows,  that  what  they  mean  by  useful  ” is  just  what 
I mean  by  ^‘good”  or  "'liberal:”  and  Locke’s  question 
becomes  a verbal  one.  Whether  youths  are  to  be 
taught  Latin  or  verse-making  will  depend  on  the  fact, 
whether  these  studies  tend  to  mental  culture  ; but,  how- 
ever this  is  determined,  so  far  is  clear,  that  in  that 
mental  culture  consists  what  I have  called  a liberal  or 
non-professional,  and  what  the  Reviewers  call  a useful 
education. 

This  is  the  obvious  answer  which  may  be  made  to 
those  who  urge  upon  us  the  claims  of  Utility  in  our 
plans  of  Education ; but  I am  not  going  to  leave  the 
subject  here  : I mean  to  take  a wider  view  of  it.  Let 
us  take  " useful,”  as  Locke  takes  it,  in  its  proper  and 
popular  sense,  and  then  we  enter  upon  a large  field  of 
thought,  to  which  I cannot  do  justice  in  one  Discourse, 
though  to-day’s  is  all  the  space  that  I can  give  to  it.  I 
say,  let  us  take  " useful  ” to  mean,  not  what  is  simply 


Discourse  VIL 


164 

good,  but  what  tends  to  good,  or  is  the  instrument  of 
good  ; and  in  this  sense  also.  Gentlemen,  I will  show 
you  how  a liberal  education  is  truly  and  fully  a useful, 
though  it  be  not  a professional,  education.  Good 
indeed  means  one  thing,  and  useful  ” means  another ; 
but  I lay  it  down  as  a principle,  which  will  save  us  a 
great  deal  of  anxiety,  that,  though  the  useful  is  not 
always  good,  the  good  is  always  useful.  Good  is  not 
only  good,  but  reproductive  of  good  ; this  is  one  of  its 
attributes ; nothing  is  excellent,  beautiful,  perfect,  desir- 
able for  its  own  sake,  but  it  overflows,  and  spreads  the 
likeness  of  itself  all  around  it.  Good  is  prolific ; it  is 
not  only  good  to  the  eye,  but  to  the  taste  ; it  not  only 
attracts  us,  but  it  communicates  itself ; it  excites  first 
our  admiration  and  love,  then  our  desire  and  our  grati- 
tude, and  that,  in  proportion  to  its  intenseness  and 
fulness  in  particular  instances.  A great  good  will  im- 
part great  good.  If  then  the  intellect  is  so  excellent  a 
portion  of  us,  and  its  cultivation  so  excellent,  it  is  not 
only  beautiful,  perfect,  admirable,  and  noble  in  itself, 
but  in  a true  and  high  sense  it  must  be  useful  to  the 
possessor  and  to  all  around  him  ; not  useful  in  any  low, 
mechanical,  mercantile  sense,  but  as  diffusing  good,  or 
as  a blessing,  or  a gift,  or  power,  or  a treasure,  first  to 
the  owner,  then  through  him  to  the  world.  I say  then, 
if  a liberal  education  be  good,  it  must  necessarily  be 
useful  too. 


6. 

You  will  see  what  I mean  by  the  parallel  of  bodily 
health.  Health  is  a good  in  itself,  though  nothing  came 
of  it,  and  is  especially  worth  seeking  and  cherishing  ; 
yet,  after  all,  the  blessings  which  attend  its  presence  are 
so  great,  while  they  are  so  close  to  it  and  so  redound 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill.  165 

back  upon  it  and  encircle  it,  that  we  never  think  of  it 
except  as  useful  as  well  as  good,  and  praise  and  prize  it 
for  what  it  does,  as  well  as  for  what  it  is,  though  at  the 
same  time  we  cannot  point  out  any  definite  and  distinct 
work  or  production  which  it  can  be  said  to  effect  And 
so  as  regards  intellectual  culture,  I am  far  from  denying 
utility  in  this  large  sense  as  the  end  of  Education,  when 
I lay  it  down,  that  the  culture  of  the  intellect  is  a good 
in  itself  and  its  own  end  ; I do  not  exclude  from  the 
idea  of  intellectual  culture  what  it  cannot  but  be,  from 
the  very  nature  of  things  ; I only  deny  that  we  must  be 
able  to  point  out,  before  we  have  any  right  to  call  it 
useful,  some  art,  or  business,  or  profession,  or  trade,  or 
work,  as  resulting  from  it,  and  as  its  real  and  complete 
end.  The  parallel  is  exact  : — As  the  body  may  be 
sacrificed  to  some  manual  or  other  toil,  whether  mode- 
rate or  oppressive,  so  may  the  intellect  be  devoted  to 
some  specific  profession ; and  I do  not  call  this  the  culture 
of  the  intellect.  Again,  as  some  member  or  organ  of 
the  body  may  be  inordinately  used  and  developed,  so 
may  memory,  or  imagination,  or  the  reasoning  faculty  ; 
and  this  again  is  not  intellectual  culture.  On  the  other 
hand,  as  the  body  may  be  tended,  cherished,  and  exer- 
cised with  a simple  view  to  its  general  health,  so  may 
the  intellect  also  be  generally  exercised  in  order  to  its 
perfect  state  ; and  this  is  its  cultivation. 

Again,  as  health  ought  to  precede  labour  of  the  body, 
and  as  a man  in  health  can  do  what  an  unhealthy  man 
cannot  do,  and  as  of  this  health  the  properties  are 
strength,  energy,  agility,  graceful  carriage  and  action, 
manual  dexterity,  and  endurance  of  fatigue,  so  in  like 
manner  general  culture  of  mind  is  the  best  aid  to  pro- 
fessional and  scientific  study,  and  educated  men  can  do 
what  illiterate  cannot ; and  the  man  who  has  learned  to 


i66 


Discourse  VIL 


think  and  to  reason  and  to  compare  and  to  discriminate 
and  to  analyze,  who  has  refined  his  taste,  and  formed  his 
judgment,  and  sharpened  his  mental  vision,  will  not  in- 
deed at  once  be  a lawyer,  or  a pleader,  or  an  orator,  or 
a statesman,  or  a physician,  or  a good  landlord,  or  a 
man  of  business,  or  a soldier,  or  an  engineer,  or  a 
chemist,  or  a geologist,  or  an  antiquarian,  but  he  will  be 
placed  in  that  state  of  intellect  in  which  he  can  take  up 
any  one  of  the  sciences  or  callings  I have  referred  to,  or 
any  other  for  which  he  has  a taste  or  special  talent,  with 
an  ease,  a grace,  a versatility,  and  a success,  to  which 
another  is  a stranger.  In  this  sense  then,  and  as  yet  I 
have  said  but  a very  few  words  on  a large  subject,  mental 
culture  is  emphatically  useful. 

If  then  I am  arguing,  and  shall  argue,  against  Profes- 
sional or  Scientific  knowledge  as  the  sufficient  end  of  a 
University  Education,  let  me  not  be  supposed.  Gentle- 
men, to  be  disrespectful  towards  particular  studies,  or 
arts,  or  vocations,  and  those  who  are  engaged  in  them. 
In  saying  that  Law  or  Medicine  is  not  the  end  of  a 
University  course,  I do  not  mean  to  imply  that  the 
University  does  not  teach  Law  or  Medicine.  What  in- 
deed can  it  teach  at  all,  if  it  does  not  teach  something 
particular.^  It  teaches  all  knowledge  by  teaching  all 
branches  of  knowledge,  and  in  no  other  way.  I do  but 
say  that  there  will  be  this  distinction  as  regards  a Pro- 
fessor of  Law,  or  of  Medicine,  or  of  Geology,  or  of 
Political  Economy,  in  a University  and  out  of  it,  that 
out  of  a University  he  is  in  danger  of  being  absorbed 
and  narrowed  by  his  pursuit,  and  of  giving  Lectures  which 
are  the  Lectures  of  nothing  more  than  a lawyer,  physi- 
cian, geologist,  or  political  economist;  whereas  in  a Uni- 
versity he  will  just  know  where  he  and  his  science  stand, 
he  has  come  to  it,  as  it  were,  from  a height,  he  has  taken 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill,  167 

a survey  of  all  knowledge,  he  is  kept  from  extravagance 
by  the  very  rivalry  of  other  studies,  he  has  gained  from 
them  a special  illumination  and  largeness  of  mind  and 
freedom  and  self-possession,  and  he  treats  his  own  in  con- 
sequence with  a philosophy  and  a resource,  which  belongs 
not  to  the  study  itself,  but  to  his  liberal  education. 

This  then  is  how  I should  solve  the  fallacy,  for  so  I 
must  call  it,  by  which  Locke  and  his  disciples  would 
frighten  us  from  cultivating  the  intellect,  under  the  notion 
that  no  education  is  useful  which  does  not  teach  us  some 
temporal  calling,  or  some  mechanical  art,  or  some  phy- 
sical secret.  I say  that  a cultivated  intellect,  because  it 
is  a good  in  itself,  brings  with  it  a power  and  a grace 
to  every  work  and  occupation  which  it  undertakes,  and 
enables  us  to  be  more  useful,  and  to  a greater  number. 
There  is  a duty  we  owe  to  human  society  as  such,  to  the 
state  to  which  we  belong,  to  the  sphere  in  which  we 
move,  to  the  individuals  towards  whom  we  are  variously 
related,  and  whom  we  successively  encounter  in  life  ; 
and  that  philosophical  or  liberal  education,  as  I have 
called  it,  which  is  the  proper  function  of  a University,  if 
it  refuses  the  foremost  place  to  professional  interests, 
does  but  postpone  them  to  the  formation  of  the  citizen, 
and,  while  it  subserves  the  larger  interests  of  philan- 
thropy, prepares  also  for  the  successful  prosecution  of 
those  merely  personal  objects,  which  at  first  sight  it 
seems  to  disparage. 


7. 

And  now.  Gentlemen,  I wish  to  be  allowed  to  enforce 
in  detail  what  I have  been  saying,  by  some  extracts 
from  the  writings  to  which  I have  already  alluded,  and  to 
which  I am  so  greatly  indebted. 

“ It  is  an  undisputed  maxim  in  Political  Economy," 


Discourse  VIL 


i68 

says  Dr.  Copleston,  that  the  separation  of  professions 
and  the  division  of  labour  tend  to  the  perfection  of 
every  art,  to  the  wealth  of  nations,  to  the  general  com- 
fort and  well-being  of  the  community.  This  principle 
of  division  is  in  some  instances  pursued  so  far  as  to 
excite  the  wonder  of  people  to  whose  notice  it  is  for  the 
first  time  pointed  out.  There  is  no  saying  to  what  ex- 
tent it  may  not  be  carried  ; and  the  more  the  powers  of 
each  individual  are  concentrated  in  one  employment,  the 
greater  skill  and  quickness  will  he  naturally  display  in 
performing  it.  But,  while  he  thus  contributes  more 
effectually  to  the  accumulation  of  national  wealth,  he 
becomes  himself  more  and  more  degraded  as  a rational 
being.  In  proportion  as  his  sphere  of  action  is  narrowed 
his  mental  powers  and  habits  become  contracted ; and 
he  resembles  a subordinate  part  of  some  powerful  ma- 
chinery, useful  in  its  place,  but  insignificant  and  worth- 
less out  of  it.  If  it  be  necessary,  as  it  is  beyond  all 
question  necessary,  that  society  should  be  split  into 
divisions  and  subdivisions,  in  order  that  its  several  duties 
may  be  well  performed,  yet  we  must  be  careful  not  to 
yield  up  ourselves  wholly  and  exclusively  to  the  guidance 
of  this  system ; we  must  observe  what  its  evils  are,  and  we 
should  modify  and  restrain  it,  by  bringing  into  action 
other  principles,  which  may  serve  as  a check  and  coun- 
terpoise to  the  main  force. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  every  art  is  improved  by 
confining  the  professor  of  it  to  that  single  study.  But, 
although  the  art  itself  is  advanced  by  this  concentration  oj 
mind  in  its  service,  the  individual  who  is  confined  to  it 
goes  back.  The  advantage  of  the  community  is  nearly  in 
an  inverse  ratio  with  his  own. 

‘‘  Society  itself  requires  some  other  contribution  from 
each  individual,  besides  the  particular  duties  of  his 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill.  1 69 

profession.  And,  if  no  such  liberal  intercourse  be  estab- 
lished, it  is  the  common  failing  of  human  nature,  to  be 
engrossed  with  petty  views  and  interests,  to  underrate 
the  importance  of  all  in  which  we  are  not  concerned,  and 
to  carry  our  partial  notions  into  cases  where  they  are 
inapplicable,  to  act,  in  short,  as  so  many  unconnected 
units,  displacing  and  repelling  one  another. 

In  the  cultivation  of  literature  is  found  that  common 
link,  which,  among  the  higher  and  middling  departments 
of  life,  unites  the  jarring  sects  and  subdivisions  into  one 
interest,  which  supplies  common  topics,  and  kindles 
common  feelings,  unmixed  with  those  narrow  prejudices 
with  which  all  professions  are  more  or  less  infected.  The 
knowledge,  too,  which  is  thus  acquired,  expands  and 
enlarges  the  mind,  excites  its  faculties,  and  calls  those 
limbs  and  muscles  into  freer  exercise  which,  by  too 
constant  use  in  one  direction,  not  only  acquire  an 
illiberal  air,  but  are  apt  also  to  lose  somewhat  of  their 
native  play  and  energy.  And  thus,  without  directly 
qualifying  a man  for  any  of  the  employments  of  life,  it 
enriches  and  ennobles  all.  Without  teaching  him  the 
peculiar  business  of  any  one  office  or  calling,  it  enables 
him  to  act  his  part  in  each  of  them  with  better  grace  and 
more  elevated  carriage  ; and,  if  happily  planned  and  con- 
ducted, is  a main  ingredient  in  that  complete  and 
generous  education  which  fits  a man  ' to  perform  justly, 
skilfully,  and  magnanimously,  all  the  offices,  both  private 
and  public,  of  peace  and  war.' 

8. 

The  view  of  Liberal  Education,  advocated  in  these 
extracts,  is  expanded  by  Mr.  Davison  in  the  Essay  to 
which  I have  already  referred.  He  lays  more  stress  on 
* Vid.  Milton  on  Education. 


Discourse  VIL 


IJO 

the  usefulness’'  of  Liberal  Education  in  the  larger  sense 
of  the  word  than  his  predecessor  in  the  controversy. 
Instead  of  arguing  that  the  Utility  of  knowledge  to  the 
individual  varies  inversely  with  its  Utility  to  the  public, 
he  chiefly  employs  himself  on  the  suggestions  contained 
in  Dr.  Copleston's  last  sentences.  He  shows,  first,  that 
a Liberal  Education  is  something  far  higher,  even  in 
the  scale  of  Utility,  than  what  is  commonly  called  a 
Useful  Education,  and  next,  that  it  is  necessary  or  useful 
for  the  purposes  even  of  that  Professional  Education  which 
commonly  engrosses  the  title  of  Useful.  The  former  of 
these  two  theses  he  recommends  to  us  in  an  argument 
from  which  the  following  passages  are  selected  : — 

It  is  to  take  a very  contracted  view  of  life,"  he  says, 
^‘to  think  with  great  anxiety  how  persons  may  be 
educated  to  superior  skill  in  their  department,  compara- 
tively neglecting  or  excluding  the  more  liberal  and 
enlarged  cultivation.  In  his  (Mr.  Edgeworth's)  system, 
the  value  of  every  attainment  is  to  be  measured  by  its 
subserviency  to  a calling.  The  specific  duties  of  that 
calling  are  exalted  at  the  cost  of  those  free  and  indepen- 
dent tastes  and  virtues  which  come  in  to  sustain  the 
common  relations  of  society,  and  raise  the  individual  in 
them.  In  short,  a man  is  to  be  usurped  by  his  profession 
He  is  to  be  clothed  in  its  garb  from  head  to  foot.  His 
virtues,  his  science,  and  his  ideas  are  all  to  be  put  into  a 
gown  or  uniform,  and  the  wLole  man  to  be  shaped, 
pressed,  and  stiffened,  in  the  exact  mould  of  his  technical 
character.  Any  interloping  accomplishments,  or  a faculty 
which  cannot  be  taken  into  public  pay,  if  they  are  to  be 
indulged  in  him  at  all,  must  creep  along  under  the  cloak 
of  his  more  serviceable  privileged  merits.  Such  is  the 
state  of  perfection  to  which  the  spirit  and  general  ten- 
dency of  this  system  would  lead  us. 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill.  ijt 

^^But  the  professional  character  is  not  the  only  one 
which  a person  engaged  in  a profession  has  to  support. 
He  is  not  always  upon  duty.  There  are  services  he  owes, 
which  are  neither  parochial,  nor  forensic,  nor  military, 
nor  to  be  described  by  any  such  epithet  of  civil  regulation, 
and  yet  are  in  no  wise  inferior  to  those  that  bear  these 
authoritative  titles;  inferior  neither  in  their  intrinsic  value, 
nor  their  moral  import,  nor  their  impression  upon  society. 
As  a friend,  as  a companion,  as  a citizen  at  large  ; in 
the  connections  of  domestic  life  ; in  the  improvement  and 
embellishment  of  his  leisure,  he  has  a sphere  of  action, 
revolving,  if  you  please,  within  the  sphere  of  his  profes- 
sion, but  not  clashing  with  it ; in  which  if  he  can  show 
none  of  the  advantages  of  an  improved  understanding, 
whatever  may  be  his  skill  or  proficiency  in  the  other,  he 
is  no  more  than  an  ill-educated  man. 

There  is  a certain  faculty  in  which  all  nations  of  any 
refinement  are  great  practitioners.  It  is  not  taught  at 
school  or  college  as  a distinct  science  ; though  it  deserves 
that  what  is  taught  there  should  be  made  to  have  some 
reference  to  it ; nor  is  it  endowed  at  all  by  the  public  ; 
everybody  being  obliged  to  exercise  it  for  himself  in 
person,  which  he  does  to  the  best  of  his  skill.  But  in 
nothing  is  there  a greater  difference  than  in  the  manner 
of  doing  it.  The  advocates  of  professional  learning  will 
smile  when  we  tell  them  that  this  same  faculty  which  we 
would  have  encouraged,  is  simply  that  of  speaking  good 
sense  in  English,  without  fee  or  reward,  in  common  con- 
versation. They  will  smile  when  we  lay  some  stress 
upon  it ; but  in  reality  it  is  no  such  trifle  as  they 
imagine.  Look  into  the  huts  of  savages,  and  see,  for 
there  is  nothing  to  listen  to,  the  dismal  blank  of  their 
stupid  hours  of  silence  ; their  professional  avocations  of 
war  and  hunting  are  over ; and,  having  nothing  to  do. 


IT2 


Discourse  VIL 


they  have  nothing  to  say.  Turn  to  improved  life,  and  you 
find  conversation  in  all  its  forms  the  medium  of  some- 
thing more  than  an  idle  pleasure  ; indeed,  a very  active 
agent  in  circulating  and  forming  the  opinions,  tastes,  and 
feelings  of  a whole  people.  It  makes  of  itself  a con- 
siderable affair.  Its  topics  are  the  most  promiscuous — • 
all  those  which  do  not  belong  to  any  particular  province. 
As  for  its  power  and  influence,  we  may  fairly  say  that  it 
is  of  just  the  same  consequence  to  a man’s  immediate 
society,  how  he  talks,  as  how  he  acts.  Now  of  all  those 
who  furnish  their  share  to  rational  conversation,  a mere 
adept  in  his  own  art  is  universally  admitted  to  be  the 
worst.  The  sterility  and  uninstructiveness  of  such  a 
person’s  social  hours  are  quite  proverbial.  Or  if  he 
escape  being  dull,  it  is  only  by  launching  into  ill-timed, 
learned  loquacity.  We  do  not  desire  of  him  lectures  or 
speeches  ; and  he  has  nothing  else  to  give.  Among 
benches  he  may  be  powerful ; but  seated  on  a chair  he 
is  quite  another  person.  On  the  other  hand,  we  may 
affirm,  that  one  of  the  best  companions  is  a man  who, 
to  the  accuracy  and  research  of  a profession,  has  joined 
a free  excursive  acquaintance  with  various  learning,  and 
caught  from  it  the  spirit  of  general  observation.” 

9- 

Having  thus  shown  that  a liberal  education  is  a real 
benefit  to  the  subjects  of  it,  as  members  of  society,  in  the 
various  duties  and  circumstances  and  accidents  of  life, 
he  goes  on,  in  the  next  place,  to  show  that,  over  and 
above  those  direct  services  which  might  fairly  be  ex- 
pected of  it,  it  actually  subserves  the  discharge  of  those 
particular  functions,  and  the  pursuit  of  those  particular 
advantages,  which  are  connected  with  professional  exer- 
tion, and  to  which  Professional  Education  is  directed. 


Knowledge  arid  Professional  SkilL  173 

We  admit/'  he  observes,  that  when  a person  makes 
a business  of  one  pursuit,  he  is  in  the  right  way  to  emi- 
nence in  it ; and  that  divided  attention  will  rarely  give 
excellence  in  many.  But  our  assent  will  go  no  further. 
For,  to  think  that  the  way  to  prepare  a person  for  excel- 
ling in  any  one  pursuit  (and  that  is  the  only  point  in 
hand),  is  to  fetter  his  early  studies,  and  cramp  the  first 
development  of  his  mind,  by  a reference  to  the  exigencies 
of  that  pursuit  barely,  is  a very  different  notion,  and  one 
which,  we  apprehend,  deserves  to  be  exploded  rather  than 
received.  Possibly  a few  of  the  abstract,  insulated  kinds 
of  learning  might  be  approached  in  that  way.  The  ex- 
ceptions to  be  made  are  very  few,  and  need  not  be 
recited.  But  for  the  acquisition  of  professional  and 
practical  ability  such  maxims  are  death  to  it.  The 
main  ingredients  of  that  ability  are  requisite  knowledge 
and  cultivated  faculties  ; but,  of  the  two,  the  latter  is  by 
far  the  chief.  A man  of  well  improved  faculties  has  the 
command  of  another's  knowledge.  A man  without  them, 
has  not  the  command  of  his  own. 

'‘Of  the  intellectual  powers,  the  judgment  is  that  which 
takes  the  foremost  lead  in  life.  How  to  form  it  to  the 
two  habits  it  ought  to  possess,  of  exactness  and  vigour,  is 
the  problem.  It  would  be  ignorant  presumption  so 
much  as  to  hint  at  any  routine  of  method  by  which 
these  qualities  may  with  certainty  be  imparted  to  every 
or  any  understanding.  Still,  however,  we  may  safely 
lay  it  down  that  they  are  not  to  be  got  'by  a gatherer  of 
simples,'  but  are  the  combined  essence  and  extracts  of 
many  different  things,  drawn  from  much  varied  reading 
and  discipline,  first,  and  observation  afterwards.  For  if 
there  be  a single  intelligible  point  on  this  head,  it  is  that 
a man  who  has  been  trained  to  think  upon  one  subject 
or  for  one  subject  only,  will  never  be  a good  judge  even 


174 


Discourse  VII . 


in  that  one  : whereas  the  enlargement  of  his  circle  gives 
him  increased  knowledge  and  power  in  a rapidly  in- 
creasing ratio.  So  much  do  ideas  act,  not  as  solitary 
units,  but  by  grouping  and  combination  ; and  so  clearly 
do  all  the  things  that  fall  within  the  proper  province  of 
the  same  faculty  of  the  mind,  intertwine  with  and  support 
each  other.  Judgment  lives  as  it  were  by  comparison 
and  discrimination.  Can  it  be  doubted,  then,  whether 
the  range  and  extent  of  that  assemblage  of  things  upon 
which  it  is  practised  in  its  first  essays  are  of  use  to  its 
power } 

‘‘To  open  our  way  a little  further  on  this  matter,  we 
will  define  what  we  mean  by  the  power  of  judgment ; 
and  then  try  to  ascertain  among  what  kind  of  studies 
the  improvement  of  it  may  be  expected  at  all. 

“Judgment  does  not  stand  here  for  a certain  homely, 
useful  quality  of  intellect,  that  guards  a person  from 
committing  mistakes  to  the  injury  of  his  fortunes  or 
common  reputation ; but  for  that  master-principle  of 
business,  literature,  and  talent,  which  gives  him  strength 
in  any  subject  he  chooses  to  grapple  with,  and  enables 
him  to  seize  the  strong  point  in  it.  Whether  this  definition 
be  metaphysically  correct  or  not,  it  comes  home  to  the 
substance  of  our  inquiry.  It  describes  the  power  that 
every  one  desires  to  possess  when  he  comes  to  act  in  a 
profession,  or  elsewhere ; and  corresponds  with  our  best 
idea  of  a cultivated  mind. 

“Next,  it  will  not  be  denied,  that  in  order  to  do  any 
good  to  the  judgment,  the  mind  must  be  employed 
upon  such  subjects  as  come  within  the  cognizance  of 
that  faculty,  and  give  some  real  exercise  to  its  percep- 
tions. Here  we  have  a rule  of  selection  by  which  the 
different  parts  of  learning  may  be  classed  for  our  purpose. 
Those  which  belong  to  the  province  of  the  judgment 


Knowledge  a7id  Professional  Skill.  175 

are  religion  (in  its  evidences  and  interpretation),  ethics, 
history,  eloquence,  poetry,  theories  of  general  speculation, 
the  fine  arts,  and  works  of  wit.  Great  as  the  variety  of 
these  large  divisions  of  learning  may  appear,  they  are  all 
held  in  union  by  two  capital  principles  of  connexion. 
First,  they  are  all  quarried  out  of  one  and  the  same  great 
subject  of  man’s  moral,  social,  and  feeling  nature.  And 
secondly,  they  are  all  under  the  control  (more  or  less 
strict)  of  the  same  power  of  moral  reason.” 

If  these  studies,”  he  continues,  be  such  as  give  a 
direct  play  and  exercise  to  the  faculty  of  the  judgment, 
then  they  are  the  true  basis  of  education  for  the  active 
and  inventive  powers,  whether  destined  for  a profession 
or  any  other  use.  Miscellaneous  as  the  assemblage  may 
appear,  of  history,  eloquence,  poetry,  ethics,  etc.,  blended 
together,  they  will  all  conspire  in  an  union  of  effect. 
They  are  necessary  mutually  to  explain  and  interpret 
each  other.  The  knowledge  derived  from  them  all  will 
amalgamate,  and  the  habits  of  a mind  versed  and 
practised  in  them  by  turns  will  join  to  produce  a richer 
vein  of  thought  and  of  more  general  and  practical 
application  than  could  be  obtained  of  any  single  one,  as 
the  fusion  of  the  metals  into  Corinthian  brass  gave  the 
artist  his  most  ductile  and  perfect  material.  Might  we 
venture  to  imitate  an  author  (whom  indeed  it  is  much 
safer  to  take  as  an  authority  than  to  attempt  to  copy). 
Lord  Bacon,  in  some  of  his  concise  illustrations  of  the 
comparative  utility  of  the  different  studies,  we  should 
say  that  history  would  give  fulness,  moral  philosophy 
strength,  and  poetry  elevation  to  the  understanding. 
Such  in  reality  is  the  natural  force  and  tendency  of  the 
studies ; but  there  are  few  minds  susceptible  enough 
to  derive  from  them  any  sort  of  virtue  adequate  to 
those  high  expressions.  We  must  Idc  contented  there- 


176 


Discourse  VII. 


fore  to  lower  our  panegyric  to  this,  that  a person  cannot 
avoid  receiving  some  infusion  and  tincture,  at  least,  of 
those  several  qualities,  from  that  course  of  diversified 
reading.  One  thing  is  unquestionable,  that  the  elements 
of  general  reason  are  not  to  be  found  fully  and  truly  ex- 
pressed in  any  one  kind  of  study;  and  that  he  who  would 
wish  to  know  her  idiom,  must  read  it  in  many  books. 

“ If  different  studies  are  useful  for  aiding,  they  are  still 
more  useful  for  correcting  each  other  ; for  as  they  have 
their  particular  merits  severally,  so  they  have  their 
defects,  and  the  most  extensive  acquaintance  with  one 
can  produce  only  an  intellect  either  too  flashy  or  too 
jejune,  or  infected  with  some  other  fault  of  confined 
reading.  History,  for  example,  shows  things  as  they  are, 
that  is,  the  morals  and  interests  of  men  disfigured  and 
perverted  by  all  their  imperfections  of  passion,  folly,  and 
ambition  ; philosophy  strips  the  picture  too  much;  poetry 
adorns  it  too  much  ; the  concentrated  lights  of  the  three 
correct  the  false  peculiar  colouring  of  each,  and  show  us 
the  truth.  The  right  mode  of  thinking  upon  it  is  to  be 
had  from  them  taken  all  together,  as  every  one  must 
know  who  has  seen  their  united  contributions  of  thought 
and  feeling  expressed  in  the  masculine  sentiment  of  our 
immortal  statesman,  Mr.  Burke,  whose  eloquence  is 
inferior  only  to  his  more  admirable  wisdom.  If  any 
mind  improved  like  his,  is  to  be  our  instructor,  we  must 
go  to  the  fountain  head  of  things  as  he  did,  and  study 
not  his  works  but  his  method  ; by  the  one  we  may 
become  feeble  imitators,  by  the  other  arrive  at  some 
ability  of  our  own.  But,  as  all  biography  assures  us,  he, 
and  every  other  able  thinker,  has  been  formed,  not  by 
a parsimonious  admeasurement  of  studies  to  some 
definite  future  object  (which  is  Mr.  Edgeworth’s  maxim), 
but  by  taking  a wide  and  liberal  compass,  and  thinking 


Knowledge  and  Professional  Skill.  177 

a great  deal  on  many  subjects  with  no  better  end  in 
view  than  because  the  exercise  was  one  which  made 
them  more  rational  and  intelligent  beings/’ 


10. 

But  I must  bring  these  extracts  to  an  end.  To-day  I 
have  confined  myself  to  saying  that  that  training  of  the 
intellect,  which  is  best  for  the  individual  himself,  best 
enables  him  to  discharge  his  duties  to  society.  The 
Philosopher,  indeed,  and  the  man  of  the  world  differ  in 
their  very  notion,  but  the  methods,  by  which  they  are  re 
spectively  formed,  are  pretty  much  the  same.  The  Philoso 
pher  has  the  same  command  of  matters  of  thought,  which 
the  true  citizen  and  gentleman  has  of  matters  of  busines.^ 
and  conduct.  If  then  a practical  end  must  be  assigned  to 
University  course,  I say  it  is  that  of  training  good  mem 
bers  of  society.  Its  art  is  the  art  of  social  life,  and  its  end  i> 
fitness  for  the  world.  It  neither  confines  its  views  to  parti 
cular  professions  on  the  one  hand,  nor  creates  heroes  or 
inspires  genius  on  the  other.  Works  indeed  of  genius  fall 
under  no  art;  heroic  minds  come  under  no  rule;  a Univer- 
sity is  not  a birthplace  of  poets  or  of  immortal  authors,  of 
founders  of  schools,  leaders  of  colonies,  or  conquerors  of 
nations.  It  does  not  promise  a generation  of  Aristotles  or 
Newtons,  of  Napoleons  or  Washingtons,  of  Raphaels  or 
Shakespeares,  though  such  miracles  of  nature  it  has  before 
now  contained  within  its  precincts.  Nor  is  it  content  on  the 
other  hand  with  forming  the  critic  or  the  experimentalist, 
the  economist  or  the  engineer,  though  such  too  it  includes 
within  its  scope.  But  a University  training  is  the  great 
ordinary  means  to  a great  but  ordinary  end;  it  aims  at 
raising  the  intellectual  tone  of  society,  at  cultivating  the 
public  mind,  at  purifying  the  national  taste,  at  supplying 
true  principles  to  popular  enthusiasm  and  fixed  aims  to 

12 


178 


Discourse  Vll, 


popular  aspiration,  at  giving  enlargement  and  sobriety  to 
the  ideas  of  the  age,  at  facilitating  the  exercise  of  political 
power,  and  refining  the  intercourse  of  private  life.  It  is 
the  education  which  gives  a man  a clear  conscious  view 
of  his  own  opinions  and  judgments,  a truth  in  developing 
them,  an  eloquence  in  expressing  them,  and  a force  in 
urging  them.  It  teaches  him  to  see  things  as  they  are, 
to  go  right  to  the  point,  to  disentangle  a skein  of  thought, 
to  detect  what  is  sophistical,  and  to  discard  what  is  irre- 
levant. It  prepares  him  to  fill  any  post  with  credit,  and 
to  master  any  subject  with  facility.  It  shows  him  how 
to  accommodate  himself  to  others,  how  to  throw  himself 
into  their  state  of  mind,  how  to  bring  before  them  his 
own,  how  to  influence  them,  how  to  come  to  an  under- 
standing with  them,  how  to  bear  with  them.  He  is  at 
home  in  any  society,  he  has  common  ground  with  every 
class ; he  knows  when  to  speak  and  when  to  be  silent ; 
he  is  able  to  converse,  he  is  able  to  listen  ; he  can  ask  a 
question  pertinently,  and  gain  a lesson  seasonably,  when 
he  has  nothing  to  impart  himself ; he  is  ever  ready,  yet 
never  in  the  way  ; he  is  a pleasant  companion,  and  a 
comrade  you  can  depend  upon  ; he  knows  when  to  be 
serious  and  when  to  trifle,  and  he  has  a sure  tact  which 
enables  him  to  trifle  with  gracefulness  and  to  be  serious 
with  effect.  He  has  the  repose  of  a mind  which  lives  in 
itself,  while  it  lives  in  the  world,  and  which  has  resources 
for  its  happiness  at  home  when  it  cannot  go  abroad.  He 
has  a gift  which  serves  him  in  public,  and  supports  him 
in  retirement,  without  which  good  fortune  is  but  vulgar, 
and  with  which  failure  and  disappointment  have  a charm. 
The  art  which  tends  to  make  a man  all  this,  is  in  the 
object  which  it  pursues  as  useful  as  the  art  of  wealth  or  the 
art  of  health,  though  it  is  less  susceptible  of  method,  and 
less  tangible,  less  certain,  less  complete  in  its  result. 


179 


DISCOURSE  VIII. 


KNOWLEDGE  VIEWED  IN  RELATION  TO  RELIGION. 


I. 


E shall  be  brought,  Gentlemen,  to-day,  to  the 


V V termination  of  the  investigation  which  I com- 
menced three  Discourses  back,  and  which,  I was  well 
aware,  from  its  length,  if  for  no  other  reason,  would  make 
demands  upon  the  patience  even  of  indulgent  hearers. 

First  I employed  myself  in  establishing  the  principle 
that  Knowledge  is  its  own  reward  ; and  I showed  that, 
when  considered  in  this  light,  it  is  called  Liberal  Know- 
ledge, and  is  the  scope  of  Academical  Institutions. 

Next,  I examined  what  is  meant  by  Knowledge,  when 
it  is  said  to  be  pursued  for  its  own  sake  ; and  I showed 
that,  in  order  satisfactorily  to  fulfil  this  idea.  Philosophy 
must  be  its  for7n  ; or,  in  other  words,  that  its  matter 
must  not  be  admitted  into  the  mind  passively,  as  so  much 
acquirement,  but  must  be  mastered  and  appropriated  as  a 
system  consisting  of  parts,  related  one  to  the  other,  and 
interpretative  of  one  another  in  the  unity  of  a whole. 

Further,  I showed  that  such  a philosophical  contem- 
plation of  the  field  of  Knowledge  as  a whole,  leading,  as 
it  did,  to  an  understanding  of  its  separate  departments, 
and  an  appreciation  of  them  respectively,  might  in  con- 
sequence be  rightly  called  an  illumination ; also,  it  was 
rightly  called  an  enlargement  of  mind,  because  it  was  a 


i8o 


Discourse  VIII. 


distinct  location  of  things  one  with  another,  as  if  in 
space;  while  it  was  moreover  its  proper  cultivation  and 
its  best  condition,  both  because  it  secured  to  the  intellect 
the  sight  of  things  as  they  are,  or  of  truth,  in  opposition 
to  fancy,  opinion,  and  theory ; and  again,  because  it  pre- 
supposed and  involved  the  perfection  of  its  various 
powers. 

Such,  I said,  was  that  Knowledge,  which  deserves  to 
be  sought  for  its  own  sake,  even  though  it  promised  no 
ulterior  advantage.  But,  when  I had  got  as  far  as  this,  I 
went  farther,  and  observed  that,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  what  was  so  good  in  itself  could  not  but  have  a 
number  of  external  uses,  though  it  did  not  promise  them, 
simply  because  it  was  good  ; and  that  it  was  necessarily 
the  source  of  benefits  to  society,  great  and  diversified  in 
proportion  to  its  own  intrinsic  excellence.  Just  as  in 
morals,  honesty  is  the  best  policy,  as  being  profitable  in 
a secular  aspect,  though  such  profit  is  not  the  measure 
of  its  worth,  so  too  as  regards  what  may  be  called  the 
virtues  of  the  Intellect,  their  very  possession  indeed  is  a 
substantial  good,  and  is  enough,  yet  still  that  substance 
has  a shadow,  inseparable  from  it,  viz.,  its  social  and 
political  usefulness.  And  this  was  the  subject  to  which 
I devoted  the  preceding  Discourse. 

One  portion  of  the  subject  remains  : — this  intellectual 
culture,  which  is  so  exalted  in  itself,  not  only  has  a 
bearing  upon  social  and  active  duties,  but  upon  Religion 
also.  The  educated  mind  may  be  said  to  be  in  a certain 
sense  religious ; that  is,  it  has  what  may  be  considered  a 
religion  of  its  own,  independent  of  Catholicism,  partly  co- 
operating with  it,  partly  thwarting  it ; at  once  a defence 
yet  a disturbance  to  the  Church  in  Catholic  countries, — 
and  in  countries  beyond  her  pale,  at  one  time  in  open 
warfare  with  her,  at  another  in  defensive  alliance.  The 


Knowledge  and  Religions  Duty,  1 8 1 

history  of  Schools  and  Academies,  and  of  Literature  and 
Science  generally,  will,  I think,  justify  me  in  thus  speak- 
ing. Since,  then,  my  aim  in  these  Discourses  is  to 
ascertain  the  function  and  the  action  of  a University, 
viewed  in  itself,  and  its  relations  to  the  various  instru- 
ments of  teaching  and  training  which  are  round  about  it, 
my  survey  of  it  would  not  be  complete  unless  I attempted, 
as  I now  propose  to  do,  to  exhibit  its  general  bearings 
upon  Religion. 

2. 

Right  Reason,  that  is,  Reason  rightly  exercised,  leads 
the  mind  to  the  Catholic  Faith,  and  plants  it  there,  and 
teaches  it  in  all  its  religious  speculations  to  act  under  its 
guidance.  But  Reason,  considered  as  a real  agent  in  the 
world,  and  as  an  operative  principle  in  man's  nature,  with 
an  historical  course  and  with  definite  results,  is  far  from 
taking  so  straight  and  satisfactory  a direction.  It 
considers  itself  from  first  to  last  independent  and 
supreme  ; it  requires  no  external  authority  ; it  makes  a 
religion  for  itself.  Even  though  it  accepts  Catholicism, 
it  does  not  go  to  sleep ; it  has  an  action  and  development 
of  its  own,  as  the  passions  have,  or  the  moral  sentiments, 
or  the  principle  of  self-interest.  Divine  grace,  to  use  the 
language  of  Theology,  does  not  by  its  presence  supersede 
nature  ; nor  is  nature  at  once  brought  into  simple  concur- 
rence and  coalition  with  grace.  Nature  pursues  its  course, 
now  coincident  with  that  of  grace,  now  parallel  to  it,  now 
across,  now  divergent,  now  counter,  in  proportion  to  its 
own  imperfection  and  to  the  attraction  and  influence 
which  grace  exerts  over  it.  And  what  takes  place  as 
regards  other  principles  of  our  nature  and  their  develop- 
ments is  found  also  as  regards  the  Reason.  There  is,  we 
know,  a Religion  of  enthusiasm,  of  superstitious  ignorance 


i82 


Discourse  VIIL 


of  statecraft ; and  each  has  that  in  it  which  resembles 
Catholicism,  and  that  again  which  contradicts  Catho- 
licism. There  is  the  Religion  of  a warlike  people,  and 
of  a pastoral  people ; there  is  a Religion  of  rude  times, 
and  in  like  manner  there  is  a Religion  of  civilized  times, 
of  the  cultivated  intellect,  of  the  philosopher,  scholar, 
and  gentleman.  This  is  that  Religion  of  Reason,  of 
which  I speak.  Viewed  in  itself,  however  near  it  comes 
to  Catholicism,  it  is  of  course  simply  distinct  from  it ; for 
Catholicism  is  one  whole,  and  admits  of  no  compromise 
or  modification.  Yet  this  is  to  view  it  in  the  abstract ; 
in  matter  of  fact,  and  in  reference  to  individuals,  we 
can  have  no  difficulty  in  conceiving  this  philosophical 
Religion  present  in  a Catholic  country,  as  a spirit  in- 
fluencing men  to  a certain  extent,  for  good  or  for  bad 
or  for  both, — a spirit  of  the  age,  which  again  may  be 
found,  as  among  Catholics,  so  with  still  greater  sway 
and  success  in  a country  not  Catholic,  yet  specifically 
the  same  in  such  a country  as  it  exists  in  a Catholic 
community.  The  problem  then  before  us  to-day,  is  to 
set  down  some  portions  of  the  outline,  if  we  can  ascertain 
them,  of  the  Religion  of  Civilization,  and  to  determine 
how  they  lie  relatively  to  those  principles,  doctrines,  and 
rules,  which  Heaven  has  given  us  in  the  Catholic 
Church. 

And  here  again,  when  I speak  of  Revealed  Truth,  it 
is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  I am  not  referring  to 
the  main  articles  and  prominent  points  of  faith,  as  con- 
tained in  the  Creed.  Had  I undertaken  to  delineate  a 
philosophy,  which  directly  interfered  with  the  Creed,  1 
could  not  have  spoken  of  it  as  compatible  with  the  pro- 
fession of  Catholicism.  The  philosophy  I speak  of, 
whether  it  be  viewed  within  or  outside  the  Church,  does 
not  necessarily  take  cognizance  of  the  Creed.  Where 


Knoivledge  and  Religious  Duty.  183 

the  country  is  Catholic,  the  educated  mind  takes  its 
articles  for  granted,  by  a sort  of  implicit  faith;  where 
it  is  not,  it  simply  ignores  them  and  the  whole  subject- 
matter  to  which  they  relate,  as  not  affecting  social  and 
political  interests.  Truths  about  God’s  Nature,  about 
His  dealings  towards  the  human  race,  about  the 
Economy  of  Redemption, — in  the  one  case  it  humbly 
accepts  them,  and  passes  on ; in  the  other  it  passes  them 
over,  as  matters  of  simple  opinion,  which  never  can  be 
decided,  and  which  can  have  no  power  over  us  to  make 
us  morally  better  or  worse.  I am  not  speaking  then  of 
belief  in  the  great  objects  of  faith,  when  I speak  of 
Catholicism,  but  I am  contemplating  Catholicism  chiefly 
as  a system  of  pastoral  instruction  and  moral  duty;  and 
I have  to  do  with  its  doctrines  mainly  as  they  are  sub- 
servient to  its  direction  of  the  conscience  and  the  con- 
duct. I speak  of  it,  for  instance,  as  teaching  the  ruined 
state  of  man ; his  utter  inability  to  gain  Heaven  by  any 
thing  he  can  do  himself;  the  moral  certainty  of  his 
losing  his  soul  if  left  to  himself ; the  simple  absence  of 
all  rights  and  claims  on  the  part  of  the  creature  in  the 
presence  of  the  Creator;  the  illimitable  claims  of  the 
Creator  on  the  service  of  the  creature;  the  imperative 
and  obligatory  force  of  the  voice  of  conscience  ; and 
the  inconceivable  evil  of  sensuality.  I speak  of  it  as 
teaching,  that  no  one  gains  Heaven  except  by  the  free 
grace  of  God,  or  without  a regeneration  of  nature  ; that 
no  one  can  please  Him  without  faith ; that  the  heart  is 
the  seat  both  of  sin  and  of  obedience ; that  charity  is 
the  fulfilling  of  the  Law ; and  that  incorporation  into 
the  Catholic  Church  is  the  ordinary  instrument  of  salva- 
tion. These  are  the  lessons  which  distinguish  Catholi- 
cism as  a popular  religion,  and  these  are  the  subjects  to 
which  the  cultivated  intellect  will  practically  be  turned  ; — 


Discourse  VIIL 


184 

I have  to  compare  and  contrast,  not  the  doctrinal,  but 
the  moral  and  social  teaching  of  Philosophy  on  the  one 
hand,  and  Catholicism  on  the  other. 

3- 

Now,  on  opening  the  subject,  we  see  at  once  a momen- 
tous benefit  which  the  philosopher  is  likely  to  confer  on 
the  pastors  of  the  Church.  It  is  obvious  that  the  first 
step  which  they  have  to  effect  in  the  conversion  of  man 
and  the  renovation  of  his  nature,  is  his  rescue  from  that 
fearful  subjection  to  sense  which  is  his  ordinary  state. 
To  be  able  to  break  through  the  meshes  of  that  thral- 
dom, and  to  disentangle  and  to  disengage  its  ten  thou- 
sand holds  upon  the  heart,  is  to  bring  it,  I might  almost 
say,  half  way  to  Heaven.  Here,  even  divine  grace,  to 
speak  of  things  according  to  their  appearances,  is  ordi- 
narily baffled,  and  retires,  without  expedient  or  resource, 
before  this  giant  fascination.  Religion  seems  too  high 
and  unearthly  to  be  able  to  exert  a continued  influence 
upon  us : its  effort  to  rouse  the  soul,  and  the  soul’s  effort 
to  co-operate,  are  too  violent  to  last.  It  is  like  holding 
out  the  arm  at  full  length,  or  supporting  some  great 
weight,  which  we  manage  to  do  for  a time,  but  soon  are 
exhausted  and  succumb.  Nothing  can  act  beyond  its 
own  nature ; when  then  we  are  called  to  what  is  super- 
natural, though  those  extraordinary  aids  from  Heaven 
are  given  us,  with  which  obedience  becomes  possible,  yet 
even  with  them  it  is  of  transcendent  difficulty.  We  are 
drawn  down  to  earth  every  moment  with  the  ease  and 
certainty  of  a natural  gravitation,  and  it  is  only  by 
sudden  impulses  and,  as  it  were,  forcible  plunges  that  we 
ittempt  to  mount  upwards.  Religion  indeed  enlightens^ 
terrifies,  subdues  ; it  gives  faith,  it  inflicts  remorse,  it  in- 
spires resolutions,  it  draws  tears^  it  inflames  devotion,  but 


Knov) ledge  and  Religious  Duty,  185 

only  for  the  occasion.  I repeat,  it  imparts  an  inward 
power  which  ought  to  effect  more  than  this ; I am  not 
forgetting  either  the  real  sufficiency  of  its  aids,  nor  the 
responsibility  of  those  in  whom  they  fail.  I am  not 
discussing  theological  questions  at  all,  I am  looking  at 
phenomena  as  they  lie  before  me,  and  I say  that,  in 
matter  of  fact,  the  sinful  spirit  repents,  and  protests  it 
will  never  sin  again,  and  for  a while  is  protected  by  disgust 
and  abhorrence  from  the  malice  of  its  foe.  But  that  foe 
knows  too  well  that  such  seasons  of  repentance  are  wont 
to  have  their  end : he  patiently  waits,  till  nature  faints 
with  the  effort  of  resistance,  and  lies  passive  and  hope- 
less under  the  next  access  of  temptation.  What  we 
need  then  is  some  expedient  or  instrument,  which  at  least 
will  obstruct  and  stave  off  the  approach  of  our  spiritual 
enemy,  and  which  is  sufficiently  congenial  and  level 
with  our  nature  to  maintain  as  firm  a hold  upon  us  as 
the  inducements  of  sensual  gratification.  It  will  be  our 
wisdom  to  employ  nature  against  itself.  Thus  sorrow, 
sickness,  and  care  are  providential  antagonists  to  our 
inward  disorders  ; they  come  upon  us  as  years  pass  on, 
and  generally  produce  their  natural  effects  on  us,  in  pro- 
portion as  we  are  subjected  to  their  influence.  These, 
however,  are  God’s  instruments,  not  ours  ; we  need  a 
similar  remedy,  which  we  can  make  our  own,  the  object 
of  some  legitimate  faculty,  or  the  aim  of  some  natural 
affection,  which  is  capable  of  resting  on  the  mind,  and 
taking  up  its  familiar  lodging  with  it,  and  engrossing  it, 
and  which  thus  becomes  a match  for  the  besetting  power 
of  sensuality,  and  a sort  of  homoeopathic  medicine  for  the 
disease.  Here  then  I think  is  the  important  aid  which 
intellectual  cultivation  furnishes  to  us  in  rescuing  the 
victims  of  passion  and  self-will.  It  does  not  supply  re- 
ligious motives  ; it  is  not  the  cause  or  proper  antecedent 


Discourse  VIIL 


1 86 

of  any  thing  supernatural ; it  is  not  meritorious  of 
heavenly  aid  or  reward  ; but  it  does  a work,  at  least 
materially  good  (as  theologians  speak),  whatever  be  its 
real  and  formal  character.  It  expels  the  excitements  of 
sense  by  the  introduction  of  those  of  the  intellect. 

This  then  is  the  primA  facie  advantage  of  the  pursuit 
of  Knowledge ; it  is  the  drawing  the  mind  off  from 
things  which  will  harm  it  to  subjects  which  are  worthy 
a rational  being ; and,  though  it  does  not  raise  it  above 
nature,  nor  has  any  tendency  to  make  us  pleasing  to  our 
Maker,  yet  is  it  nothing  to  substitute  what  is  in  itself 
harmless  for  what  is,  to  say  the  least,  inexpressibly 
dangerous  } is  it  a little  thing  to  exchange  a circle  of 
ideas  which  are  certainly  sinful,  for  others  which  are 
certainly  not  so  You  will  say,  perhaps,  in  the  words 
of  the  Apostle,  ‘‘  Knowledge  puffeth  up and  doubtless 
this  mental  cultivation,  even  when  it  is  successful  for  the 
purpose  for  which  I am  applying  it,  may  be  from  the 
first  nothing  more  than  the  substitution  of  pride  for 
sensuality.  I grant  it,  I think  I shall  have  something  to 
say  on  this  point  presently  ; but  this  is  not  a necessary 
result,  it  is  but  an  incidental  evil,  a danger  which  may 
be  realized  or  may  be  averted,  whereas  we  may  in  most 
cases  predicate  guilt,  and  guilt  of  a heinous  kind,  where 
the  mind  is  suffered  to  run  wild  and  indulge  its  thoughts 
without  training  or  law  of  any  kind  ; and  surely  to  turn 
away  a soul  from  mortal  sin  is  a good  and  a gain  so 
far,  whatever  comes  of  it.  And  therefore,  if  a friend  in 
need  is  twice  a friend,  I conceive  that  intellectual  employ- 
ments, though  they  do  no  more  than  occupy  the  mind 
with  objects  naturally  noble  or  innocent,  have  a special 
claim  upon  our  consideration  and  gratitude. 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty. 


187 


4- 

Nor  is  this  all  : Knowledge,  the  discipline  by  which  it 
is  gained,  and  the  tastes  which  it  forms,  have  a natural 
tendency  to  refine  the  mind,  and  to  give  it  an  indispo- 
sition, simply  natural,  yet  real,  nay,  more  than  this,  a 
disgust  and  abhorrence,  towards  excesses  and  enormi- 
ties of  evil,  which  are  often  or  ordinarily  reached  at 
length  by  those  who  are  not  careful  from  the  first  to 
set  themselves  against  what  is  vicious  and  criminal.  It 
generates  within  the  mind  a fastidiousness,  analogous  to 
the  delicacy  or  daintiness  which  good  nurture  or  a sickly 
habit  induces  in  respect  of  food  ; and  this  fastidiousness, 
though  arguing  no  high  principle,  though  no  protection 
in  the  case  of  violent  temptation,  nor  sure  in  its  operation, 
yet  will  often  or  generally  be  lively  enough  to  create 
an  absolute  loathing  of  certain  offences,  or  a detestation 
and  scorn  of  them  as  ungentlemanlike,  to  which  ruder 
natures,  nay,  such  as  have  far  more  of  real  religion  in 
them,  are  tempted,  or  even  betrayed.  Scarcely  can  we 
exaggerate  the  value,  in  its  place,  of  a safeguard  such  as 
this,  as  regards  those  multitudes  who  are  thrown  upon 
the  open  field  of  the  world,  or  are  withdrawn  from  its 
eye  and  from  the  restraint  of  public  opinion.  In  many 
cases,  where  it  exists,  sins,  familiar  to  those  who  are 
otherwise  circumstanced,  will  not  even  occur  to  the 
mind  : in  others,  the  sense  of  shame  and  the  quickened 
apprehension  of  detection  will  act  as  a sufficient  obstacle 
to  them,  when  they  do  present  themselves  before  it. 
Then,  again,  the  fastidiousness  I am  speaking  of  will 
create  a simple  hatred  of  that  miserable  tone  of  conver- 
sation which,  obtaining  as  it  does  in  the  world,  is  a con- 
stant fuel  of  evil,  heaped  up  round  about  the  soul : more- 
over, it  will  create  an  irresolution  and  indecision  in  doing 


Discourse  VIIL 


1 88 

wrong,  which  will  act  as  a 7'emora  till  the  danger  is  past 
away.  And  though  it  has  no  tendency,  I repeat,  to 
mend  the  heart,  or  to  secure  it  from  the  dominion  in 
other  shapes  of  those  very  evils  which  it  repels  in  the 
particular  modes  of  approach  by  which  they  prevail  over 
others,  yet  cases  may  occur  when  it  gives  birth,  after  sins 
have  been  committed,  to  so  keen  a remorse  and  so  intense 
a self-hatred,  as  are  even  sufficient  to  cure  the  particular 
moral  disorder,  and  to  prevent  its  accesses  ever  after- 
wards ; — as  the  spendthrift  in  the  story,  who,  after  gazing 
on  his  lost  acres  from  the  summit  of  an  eminence,  came 
down  a miser,  and  remained  a miser  to  the  end  of  his 
days. 

And  all  this  holds  good  in  a special  way,  in  an  age 
such  as  ours,  when,  although  pain  of  body  and  mind 
may  be  rife  as  heretofore,  yet  other  counteractions  of  evil, 
of  a penal  character,  which  are  present  at  other  times,  are 
away.  In  rude  and  semi-barbarous  periods,  at  least  in  a 
climate  such  as  our  own,  it  is  the  daily,  nay,  the  principal 
business  of  the  senses,  to  convey  feelings  of  discomfort 
to  the  mind,  as  far  as  they  convey  feelings  at  all.  Expo- 
sure to  the  elements,  social  disorder  and  lawlessness,  the 
tyranny  of  the  powerful,  and  the  inroads  of  enemies,  are 
a stern  discipline,  allowing  brief  intervals,  or  awarding  a 
sharp  penance,  to  sloth  and  sensuality.  The  rude  food, 
the  scanty  clothing,  the  violent  exercise,  the  vagrant  life, 
the  military  constraint,  the  imperfect  pharmacy,  which 
now  are  the  trials  of  only  particular  classes  of  the 
community,  were  once  the  lot  more  or  less  of  all.  In  the 
deep  woods  or  the  wild  solitudes  of  the  medieval  era, 
feelings  of  religion  or  superstition  were  naturally  pre- 
sent to  the  population,  which  in  various  ways  co-operated 
with  the  missionary  or  pastor,  in  retaining  it  in  a noble 
simplicity  of  manners.  But,  when  in  the  advancement 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty,  1 89 

of  society  men  congregate  in  towns,  and  multiply  in  con- 
tracted spaces,  and  law  gives  them  security,  and  art 
gives  them  comforts,  and  good  government  robs  them  of 
courage  and  manliness,  and  monotony  of  life  throws 
them  back  upon  themselves,  who  does  not  see  that 
diversion  or  protection  from  evil  they  have  none,  that 
vice  is  the  mere  reaction  of  unhealthy  toil,  and  sensual 
excess  the  holyday  of  resourceless  ignorance  ? This  is 
so  well  understood  by  the  practical  benevolence  of  the 
day,  that  it  has  especially  busied  itself  in  plans  for  sup- 
plying the  masses  of  our  town  population  with  intel- 
lectual and  honourable  recreations.  Cheap  literature, 
libraries  of  useful  and  entertaining  knowledge,  scientific 
lectureships,  museums,  zoological  collections,  buildings 
and  gardens  to  please  the  eye  and  to  give  repose  to  the 
feelings,  external  objects  of  whatever  kind,  which  may 
take  the  mind  off  itself,  and  expand  and  elevate  it  in 
liberal  contemplations,  these  are  the  human  means,  wisely 
suggested,  and  good  as  far  as  they  go,  for  at  least  parrying 
the  assaults  of  moral  evil,  and  keeping  at  bay  the  enemies, 
not  only  of  the  individual  soul,  but  of  society  at  large. 

Such  are  the  instruments  by  which  an  age  of  advanced 
civilization  combats  those  moral  disorders,  which  Reason 
as  well  as  Revelation  denounces  ; and  I have  not  been 
backward  to  express  my  sense  of  their  serviceableness 
to  Religion.  Moreover,  they  are  but  the  foremost  of  a 
series  of  influences,  which  intellectual  culture  exerts 
upon  our  moral  nature,  and  all  upon  the  type  of  Chris- 
tianity, manifesting  themselves  in  veracity,  probity, 
equity,  fairness,  gentleness,  benevolence,  and  amiable- 
ness ; so  much  so,  that  a character  more  noble  to  look 
at,  more  beautiful,  more  winning,  in  the  various  relations 
of  life  and  in  personal  duties,  is  hardly  conceivable,  than 
may,  or  might  be»  its  result,  when  that  culture  is  bestowed 


Discourse  VIIL 


190 

upon  a soil  naturally  adapted  to  virtue.  If  you  would 
obtain  a picture  for  contemplation  which  may  seem  to 
fulfil  the  ideal,  which  the  Apostle  has  delineated  under 
the  name  of  charity,  in  its  sweetness  and  harmony,  its 
generosity,  its  courtesy  to  others,  and  its  depreciation  of 
self,  you  could  not  have  recourse  to  a better  furnished 
studio  than  to  that  of  Philosophy,  with  the  specimens  of 
it,  which  with  greater  or  less  exactness  are  scattered 
through  society  in  a civilized  age.  It  is  enough  to  refer 
you.  Gentlemen,  to  the  various  Biographies  and  Remains 
of  contemporaries  and  others,  which  from  time  to  time 
issue  from  the  press,  to  see  how  striking  is  the  action  of 
our  intellectual  upon  our  moral  nature,  where  the  moral 
material  is  rich,  and  the  intellectual  cast  is  perfect 
Individuals  will  occur  to  all  of  us,  who  deservedly  attract 
our  love  and  admiration,  and  whom  the  world  almost 
worships  as  the  work  of  its  own  hands.  Religious 
principle,  indeed, — that  is,  faith, — is,  to  all  appearance, 
simply  away  ; the  work  is  as  certainly  not  supernatural 
as  it  is  certainly  noble  and  beautiful.  This  must  be 
insisted  on,  that  the  Intellect  may  have  its  due  ; but 
it  also  must  be  Insisted  on  for  the  sake  of  conclusions 
to  which  I wish  to  conduct  our  investigation.  The 
radical  difference  indeed  of  this  mental  refinem.ent  from 
genuine  religion,  in  spite  of  its  seeming  relationship,  is 
the  very  cardinal  point  on  which  my  present  discussion 
turns ; yet,  on  the  other  hand,  such  refinement  may 
readily  be  assigned  to  a Christian  origin  by  hasty  or 
distant  observers,  or  by  those  who  view  it  in  a particular 
light.  And  as  this  is  the  case,  I think  it  advisable, 
before  proceeding  with  the  delineation  of  its  character- 
istic features,  to  point  out  to  you  distinctly  the  elemen- 
tary principles  on  which  its  morality  is  based. 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty,  191 


5. 

You  will  bear  in  .mind  then,  Gentlemen,  that  I spoke 
just  now  of  the  scorn  and  hatred  which  a cultivated  mind 
feels  for  some  kinds  of  vice,  and  the  utter  disgust  and 
profound  humiliation  which  may  come  over  it,  if  it 
should  happen  in  any  degree  to  be  betrayed  into  them. 
Now  this  feeling  may  have  its  root  in  faith  and  love,  but 
it  may  not ; there  is  nothing  really  religious  in  it,  con- 
sidered by  itself.  Conscience  indeed  is  implanted  in  the 
breast  by  nature,  but  it  inflicts  upon  us  fear  as  well  as 
shame  ; when  the  mind  is  simply  angry  with  itself  and 
nothing  more,  surely  the  true  import  of  the  voice  of 
nature  and  the  depth  of  its  intimations  have  been 
forgotten,  and  a false  philosophy  has  misinterpreted 
emotions  which  ought  to  lead  to  God.  Fear  implies 
the  transgression  of  a law,  and  a law  implies  a lawgiver 
and  judge  ; but  the  tendency  of  intellectual  culture  is  to 
swallow  up  the  fear  in  the  self-reproach,  and  self-reproach 
is  directed  and  limited  to  our  mere  sense  of  what  is  fitting 
and  becoming.  Fear  carries  us  out  of  ourselves,  whereas 
shame  may  act  upon  us  only  within  the  round  of  our 
own  thoughts.  Such,  I say,  is  the  danger  which  awaits 
a civilized  age ; such  is  its  besetting  sin  (not  inevitable, 
God  forbid ! or  we  must  abandon  the  use  of  God's  own 
gifts),  but  still  the  ordinary  sin  of  the  Intellect ; con- 
science tends  to  become  what  is  called  a moral  sense  ; 
the  command  of  duty  is  a sort  of  taste  ; sin  is  not  an 
offence  against  God,  but  against  human  nature. 

The  less  amiable  specimens  of  this  spurious  religion 
are  those  which  we  meet  not  unfrequently  in  my  own 
country.  I can  use  with  all  my  heart  the  poet's  words, 

England,  with  all  thy  faults,  I love  thee  still  5 


19^ 


Discourse  VIIL 


but  to  those  faults  no  Catholic  can  be  blind.  We  find 
there  men  possessed  of  many  virtues,  but  proud,  bashful, 
fastidious,  and  reserved.  Why  is  this  } it  is  because 
they  think  and  act  as  if  there  were  really  nothing 
objective  in  their  religion ; it  is  because  conscience  to 
them  is  not  the  word  of  a lawgiver,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
but  the  dictate  of  their  own  minds  and  nothing  more ; 
it  is  because  they  do  not  look  out  of  themselves,  because 
they  do  not  look  through  and  beyond  their  own  minds 
to  their  Maker,  but  are  engrossed  in  notions  of  what  is 
due  to  themselves,  to  their  own  dignity  and  their  own 
consistency.  Their  conscience  has  become  a mere  self- 
respect.  Instead  of  doing  one  thing  and  then  another, 
as  each  is  called  for,  in  faith  and  obedience,  careless  of 
what  may  be  called  the  keeping  of  deed  with  deed,  and 
leaving  Him  who  gives  the  command  to  blend  the  por- 
tions of  their  conduct  into  a whole,  their  one  object, 
however  unconscious  to  themselves,  is  to  paint  a smooth 
and  perfect  surface,  and  to  be  able  to  say  to  themselves 
that  they  have  done  their  duty.  When  they  do  wrong, 
they  feel,  not  contrition,  of  which  God  is  the  object,  but 
remorse,  and  a sense  of  degradation.  They  call  them- 
selves fools,  not  sinners ; they  are  angry  and  impatient, 
not  humble.  They  shut  themselves  up  in  themselves  ; 
it  is  misery  to  them  to  think  or  to  speak  of  their  own 
feelings;  it  is  misery  to  suppose  that  others  see  them,  and 
their  shyness  and  sensitiveness  often  become  morbid.  As 
to  confession,  which  is  so  natural  to  the  Catholic,  to  them 
it  is  impossible;  unless  indeed,  in  cases  where  they  have 
been  guilty,  an  apology  is  due  to  their  own  character,  is 
expected  of  them,  and  will  be  satisfactory  to  look  back 
upon.  They  are  victims  of  an  intense  self-contemplation. 

There  are,  however,  far  more  pleasing  and  interesting 
forms  of  this  moral  malady  than  that  which  I have  been 


193 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty, 

depicting  : I have  spoken  of  the  effect  of  intellectual 
culture  on  proud  natures  ; but  it  will  snow  to  greater 
advantage,  yet  with  as  little  approximation  to  religious 
faith,  in  amiable  and  unaffected  minds.  Observe,  Gentle- 
men, the  heresy,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  which  I speak, 
is  the  substitution  of  a moral  sense  or  taste  for  con- 
science in  the  true  meaning  of  the  word  ; now  this  error 
may  be  the  foundation  of  a character  of  far  more 
elasticity  and  grace  than  ever  adorned  the  persons  whom 
I have  been  describing.  It  is  especially  congenial  to  men 
of  an  imaginative  and  poetical  cast  of  mind,  who  will 
readily  accept  the  notion  that  virtue  is  nothing  more 
than  the  graceful  in  conduct.  Such  persons,  far  from 
tolerating  fear,  as  a principle,  in  their  apprehension  of 
religious  and  moral  truth,  will  not  be  slow  to  call  it 
simply  gloom  and  superstition.  Rather  a philosopher  s, 
a gentleman's  religion,  is  of  a liberal  and  generous 
character;  it  is  based  upon  honour;  vice  is  evil,  because 
it  is  unworthy,  despicable,  and  odious.  This  was  the 
quarrel  of  the  ancient  heathen  with  Christianity,  that, 
instead  of  simply  fixing  the  mind  on  the  fair  and  the 
pleasant,  it  intermingled  other  ideas  with  them  of  a sad 
and  painful  nature ; that  it  spoke  of  tears  before  joy,  a 
cross  before  a crown;  that  it  laid  the  foundation  of 
heroism  in  penance  ; that  it  made  the  soul  tremble  with 
the  news  of  Purgatory  and  Hell;  that  it  insisted  on  views 
and  a worship  of  the  Deity,  which  to  their  minds  was 
nothing  else  than  mean,  servile,  and  cowardly.  The 
notion  of  an  All-perfect,  Ever-present  God,  in  whose 
sight  we  are  less  than  atoms,  and  who,  v/hile  He  deigns 
to  visit  us,  can  punish  as  well  as  bless,  was  abhorrent  to 
them  ; they  made  their  own  minds  their  sanctuary,  their 
own  ideas  their  oracle,  and  conscience  in  morals  was  but 
parallel  to  genius  in  art,  and  wisdom  in  philosophy. 

13 


194 


Discourse  VIIL 


6. 

Had  I room  for  all  that  might  be  said  upon  the  subject, 
I might  illustrate  this  intellectual  religion  from  the  history 
of  the  Emperor  Julian,  the  apostate  from  Christian  Truth, 
the  foe  of  Christian  education.  He,  in  whom  every 
Catholic  sees  the  shadow  of  the  future  Anti-Christ,  was 
all  but  the  pattern-man  of  philosophical  virtue.  Weak 
points  in  his. character  he  had,  it  is  true,  even  in  a merely 
poetical  standard;  but,  take  him  all  in  all,  and  I cannot 
but  recognize  in  him  a specious  beauty  and  nobleness  of 
moral  deportment,  which  combines  in  it  the  rude  great- 
ness of  Fabricius  or  Regulus  with  the  accomplishments 
of  Pliny  or  Antoninus.  His  simplicity  of  manners,  his 
frugality,  his  austerity  of  life,  his  singular  disdain  of 
sensual  pleasure,  his  military  heroism,  his  application  to 
business,  his  literary  diligence,  his  modesty,  his  clemency, 
his  accomplishments,  as  I view  them,  go  to  make  him 
one  of  the  most  eminent  specimens  of  pagan  virtue 
which  the  world  has  ever  seen.*  Yet  how  shallow,  how 
meagre,  nay,  how  unamiable  is  that  virtue  after  all,  when 
brought  upon  its  critical  trial  by  his  sudden  summons 
into  the  presence  of  his  Judge  ! His  last  hours  form  a 
unique  passage  in  history,  both  as  illustrating  the  help- 
lessness of  philosophy  under  the  stern  realities  of  our 

* I do  not  consider  I have  said  above  any  thing  inconsistent  with  the 
following  passage  from  Cardinal  Gerdil,  though  I have  enlarged  on  the  favour- 
able side  of  Julian’s  character.  “Du  g^nie,  des  connaissances,  de  I’habilite 
dans  le  metier  de  la  guerre,  du  courage  et  du  desintdressement  dans  le  com- 
mandement  des  armees,  des  actions  plutot  que  des  qualit^s  estimables, 
mais  le  plus  souvent  gat^es  par  la  vanity  qui  en  dtait  le  principe,  la  super- 
stition jointe  k I’hypocrisie ; un  esprit  f^cond  en  ressources  dclair^,  mais  sus- 
ceptible de  petitesse;  des  fautes  essentielles  dans  le  gouvernement ; des  in- 
nocens  sacrifi^s  k la  vengeance ; une  haine  envenim^e  contre  le  Christianisme, 
qu’il  avait  abandonn^ ; un  attachement  passionn^  aux  folies  de  la  Thtogie ; 
tels  dtaient  les  traits  sous  lesquels  on  nous  preignait  Julien.”  Op.  t.  x.  p.  54. 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty.  195 

being,  and  as  being  reported  to  us  on  the  evidence  of  an 
eye-witness.  Friends  and  fellow-soldiers,”  he  said,  to 
use  the  words  of  a writer,  well  fitted,  both  from  his 
literary  tastes  and  from  his  hatred  of  Christianity,  to  be 
his  panegyrist,  ‘‘  the  seasonable  period  of  my  departure 
is  now  arrived,  and  I discharge,  with  the  cheerfulness  of 
a ready  debtor,  the  demands  of  nature  ....  I die  with- 
out remorse,  as  I have  lived  without  guilt.  I am  pleased 
to  reflect  on  the  innocence  of  my  private  life ; and  I can 
affirm  with  confidence  that  the  supreme  authority,  that 
emanation  of  the  divine  Power,  has  been  preserved  in 
my  hands  pure  and  immaculate  ...  I now  offer  my 
tribute  of  gratitude  to  the  Eternal  Being,  who  has  not 
suffered  me  to  perish  by  the  cruelty  of  a tyrant,  by  the 
secret  dagger  of  conspiracy,  or  by  the  slow  tortures  of 
lingering  disease.  He  has  given  me,  in  the  midst  of  an 
honourable  career,  a splendid  and  glorious  departure 
from  this  world,  and  I hold  it  equally  absurd,  equally 
base,  to  solicit,  or  to  decline,  the  stroke  of  fate  . . . 

He  reproved  the  immoderate  grief  of  the  spectators, 
and  conjured  them  not  to  disgrace,  by  unmanly  tears, 
the  fate  of  a prince  who  in  a few  moments  would  be 
united  with  Heaven  and  with  the  stars.  The  spectators 
were  silent;  and  Julian  entered  into  a metaphysical 
argument  with  the  philosophers  Priscus  and  Maximus 
on  the  nature  of  the  soul.  The  efforts  which  he  made, 
of  mind  as  well  as  body,  most  probably  hastened  his 
death.  His  wound  began  to  bleed  with  great  violence  ; 
his  respiration  was  embarrassed  by  the  swelling  of  the 
veins  ; he  called  for  a draught  of  cold  water,  and  as  soon 
as  he  had  drank  it  expired  without  pain,  about  the 
hour  of  midnight.”*  Such,  Gentlemen,  is  the  final 
exhibition  of  the  Religion  of  Reason  : in  the  insensibility 
* Gibbon,  Hist.,  ch.  24. 


196 


Discourse  VIIL 


of  conscience,  in  the  ignorance  of  the  very  idea  of  sin,  in 
the  contemplation  of  his  own  moral  consistency,  in  the 
simple  absence  of  fear,  in  the  cloudless  self-confidence, 
in  the  serene  self-possession,  in  the  cold  self-satisfaction, 
we  recognize  the  mere  Philosopher. 


7- 

Gibbon  paints  with  pleasure  what,  conformably  with 
the  sentiments  of  a godless  intellectualism,  was  an  his- 
torical fulfilment  of  his  own  idea  of  moral  perfection; 
Lord  Shaftesbury  had  already  drawn  out  that  idea  in  a 
theoretical  from,  in  his  celebrated  collection  of  Treatises 
which  he  has  called  Characteristics  of  men,  manners, 
opinions,  views  \ and  it  will  be  a further  illustration  of 
the  subject  before  us,  if  you  will  allow  me.  Gentlemen,  to 
make  some  extracts  from  this  work. 

One  of  his  first  attacks  is  directed  against  the  doctrine 
of  reward  and  punishment,  as  if  it  introduced  a notion 
into  religion  inconsistent  with  the  true  apprehension  of 
the  beauty  of  virtue,  and  with  the  liberality  and  noble- 
ness of  spirit  in  which  it  should  be  pursued.  Men 
have  not  been  content,'^  he  says,  to  show  the  natural 
advantages  of  honesty  and  virtue.  They  have  rather 
lessened  these,  the  better,  as  they  thought,  to  advance 
another  foundation.  They  have  made  virtue  so  mer- 
cenary a thing,  and  have  talked  so  much  of  its  rewards, 
that  one  can  hardly  tell  what  there  is  in  it,  after  all,  which 
can  be  worth  rewarding.  For  to  be  bribed  only  or 
terrified  into  an  honest  practice,  bespeaks  little  of  real 
honesty  or  worth.’'  If,”  he  says  elsewhere,  insinuating 
what  he  dare  not  speak  out,  if  through  hope  merely  of 
reward,  or  fear  of  punishment,  the  creature  be  inclined 
to  do  the  good  he  hates,  or  restrained  from  doing  the  ill 
to  which  he  is  not  otherwise  in  the  least  degree  averse 


197 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty. 

there  is  in  this  case  no  virtue  or  goodness  whatever. 
There  is  no  more  of  rectitude,  piety,  or  sanctity,  in  a 
creature  thus  reformed,  than  there  is  meekness  or 
gentleness  in  a tiger  strongly  chained,  or  innocence  and 
sobriety  in  a monkey  under  the  discipline  of  the  whip 
....  While  the  will  is  neither  gained,  nor  the  inclination 
wrought  upon,  but  awe  alone  prevails  and  forces  obedi- 
ence, the  obedience  is  servile,  and  all  which  is  done 
through  it  merely  servile.''  That  is,  he  says  that 
Christianity  is  the  enemy  of  moral  virtue,  as  influencing 
the  mind  by  fear  of  God,  not  by  love  of  good. 

The  motives  then  of  hope  and  fear  being,  to  say  the 
least,  put  far  into  the  background,  and  nothing  being 
morally  good  but  what  springs  simply  or  mainly  from  a 
love  of  virtue  for  its  own  sake,  this  love-inspiring  quality 
in  virtue  is  its  beauty,  while  a bad  conscience  is  not 
much  more  than  the  sort  of  feeling  which  makes  us 
shrink  from  an  instrument  out  of  tune.  Some  by  mere 
nature,"  he  says,  others  by  art  and  practice,  are  masters 
of  an  ear  in  music,  an  eye  in  painting,  a fancy  in  the 
ordinary  things  of  ornament  and  grace,  a judgment  in 
proportions  of  all  kinds,  and  a general  good  taste  in 
most  of  those  subjects  which  make  the  amusement  and 
delight  of  the  ingenious  people  of  the  world.  Let  such 
gentlemen  as  these  be  as  extravagant  as  they  please,  or 
as  irregular  in  their  morals,  they  must  at  the  same  time 
discover  their  inconsistency^  live  at  variance  with  them- 
selves, and  in  contradictio7i  to  that  principle  on  which 
they  ground  their  highest  pleasure  and  entertainment. 
Of  all  other  beauties  which  virtuosos  pursue,  poets 
celebrate,  musicians  sing,  and  architects  or  artists  of 
whatever  kind  describe  or  form,  the  most  delightful, 
the  most  engaging  and  pathetic,  is  that  which  is  drawn 
from  real  life  and  from  the  passions.  Nothing  affects 


Discourse  VIIL 


198 

the  heart  like  that  which  is  purely  from  itself,  and 
of  its  own  nature : such  as  the  beauty  of  sentiments, 
the  grace  of  actions,  the  turn  of  characters,  and  the 
proportions  and  features  of  a human  mind.  This  lesson 
of  philosophy,  even  a romance,  a poem,  or  a play  maj 
teach  us  ...  . Let  poets  or  the  men  of  harmony  deny, 
if  they  can,  this  force  of  nature,  or  withstand  this  moral 
magic  ....  Every  one  is  a virtuoso  of  a higher  or 
lower  degree ; every  one  pursues  a grace  ...  of  one 
kind  or  other.  The  venustum,  the  honestum^  the  decortm 
of  things  will  force  its  way  ....  The  most  natural 
beauty  in  the  world  is  honesty  and  moral  truth  for  all 
beauty  is  truth.” 

Accordingly,  virtue  being  only  one  kind  of  beauty,  the 
principle  which  determines  what  is  virtuous  is,  not  con- 
science, but  taste,  Could  we  once  convince  ourselves,” 
he  says,  of  what  is  in  itself  so  evident,  viz.,  that  in  the 
very  nature  of  things  there  must  of  necessity  be  the 
foundation  of  a right  and  wrong  taste^  as  well  in  respect 
of  inward  character  of  features  as  of  outward  person,  be- 
haviour, and  action,  we  should  be  far  more  ashamed  of 
ignorance  and  wrong  judgment  in  the  former  than  in 
the  latter  of  these  subjects  ....  One  who  aspires  to  the 
character  of  a man  of  breeding  and  politeness  is  careful 
to  form  his  judgment  of  arts  and  sciences  upon  right 
models  of  perfection  ....  He  takes  particular  care  to 
turn  his  eye  from  every  thing  which  is  gaudy,  luscious, 
and  of  false  taste.  Nor  is  he  less  careful  to  turn  his  ear 
from  every  sort  of  music,  besides  that  which  is  of  the 
best  manner  and  truest  harmony.  'Twere  to  be  wished 
we  had  the  same  regard  to  a right  taste  in  life  and 
manners  ....  If  civility  and  humanity  be  a taste ; if 
brutality,  insolence,  riot,  be  in  the  same  manner  a taste, 

, . , , who  would  not  endeavour  to  force  nature  as  well 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty.  1 99 

in  this  respect  as  in  what  relates  to  a taste  or  judgment 
in  other  arts  and  sciences  ? ” 

Sometimes  he  distinctly  contrasts  this  taste  with  prin- 
ciple and  conscience,  and  gives  it  the  preference  over 
them.  After  all,”  he  says,  not  merely  what  we 

call  principle,  but  a taste,  which  governs  men.  They 
may  think  for  certain,  ‘ This  is  right,'  or  ‘ that  wrong ; ' 
they  may  believe  ‘ this  is  a virtue,'  or  ‘ that  a sin  ; ' ‘ this 
is  punishable  by  man,'  or  ‘ that  by  God  ; ' yet  if  the 
savour  of  things  lies  cross  to  honesty,  if  the  fancy  be 
florid,  and  the  appetite  high  towards  the  subaltern 
beauties  and  lower  orders  of  worldly  symmetries  and 
proportions,  the  conduct  will  infallibly  turn  this  latter 
way.”  Thus,  somewhat  like  a Jansenist,  he  makes  the 
superior  pleasure  infallibly  conquer,  and  implies  that, 
neglecting  principle,  we  have  but  to  train  the  taste  to  a 
kind  of  beauty  higher  than  sensual.  He  adds:  Even 
conscience,  I fear,  such  as  is  owing  to  religious  discipline, 
will  make  but  a slight  figure,  when  this  taste  is  set 
amiss." 

And  hence  the  well-known  doctrine  of  this  author, 
that  ridicule  is  the  test  of  truth  ; for  truth  and  virtue 
being  beauty,  and  falsehood  and  vice  deformity,  and  the 
feeling  inspired  by  deformity  being  that  of  derision,  as 
that  inspired  by  beauty  is  admiration,  it  follows  that 
vice  is  not  a thing  to  weep  about,  but  to  laugh  at. 
‘‘  Nothing  is  ridiculous,”  he  says,  ‘‘  but  what  is  deformed  ; 
nor  is  any  thing  proof  against  raillery  but  what  is  hand- 
some and  just.  And  therefore  'tis  the  hardest  thing  in 
the  world  to  deny  fair  honesty  the  use  of  this  weapon, 
which  can  never  bear  an  edge  against  herself,  and  bears 
against  every  thing  contrary.” 

And  hence  again,  conscience,  which  intimates  a Law- 
giver, being  superseded  by  a moral  taste  or  sentiment. 


200 


Discotcrse  VIIL 


which  has  no  sanction  beyond  the  constitution  of  our 
nature,  it  follows  that  our  great  rule  is  to  contemplate 
ourselves,  if  we  would  gain  a standard  of  life  and  morals. 
Thus  he  has  entitled  one  of  his  Treatises  a Soliloquy,” 
with  the  motto,  Nec  te  quaesiveris  extra;”  and  he 
observes,  The  chief  interest  of  ambition,  avarice, 
corruption,  and  every  sly  insinuating  vice,  is  to  prevent 
this  interview  and  familiarity  of  discourse,  which  is 
consequent  upon  close  retirement  and  inward  recess. 
’Tis  the  grand  artifice  of  villainy  and  lewdness,  as  well 
as  of  superstition  and  bigotry^  to  put  us  upon  terms  of 
greater  distance  and  formality  with  ourselves,  and  evade 
our  provmg  method  of  soliloquy  ....  A passionate 
lover,  whatever  solitude  he  may  affect,  can  never  be  truly 
by  himself  ....  ’Tis  the  same  reason  which  keeps  the 
imaginary  saint  or  mystic  from  being  capable  of  this 
entertainment.  Instead  of  looking  narrowly  into  his  own 
nature  and  mind,  that  he  may  be  no  longer  a mystery  to 
himself,  he  is  taken  up  with  the  contemplation  of  other 
mysterious  natureSy  which  he  never  can  explain  or 
comprehend.” 


8. 

Taking  these  passages  as  specimens  of  what  I call  the 
Religion  of  Philosophy,  it  is  obvious  to  observe  that 
there  is  no  doctrine  contained  in  them  which  is  not  in  a 
certain  sense  true  ; yet,  on  the  other  hand,  that  almost 
every  statement  is  perverted  and  made  false,  because  it 
is  not  the  whole  truth.  They  are  exhibitions  of  truth 
under  one  aspect,  and  therefore  insufficient ; conscience 
is  most  certainly  a moral  sense,  but  it  is  more ; vice 
again,  is  a deformity,  but  it  is  worse.  Lord  Shaftesbury 
may  insist,  if  he  will,  that  simple  and  solitary  fear  cannot 
effect  a moral  conversion,  and  we  are  not  concerned  to 


^Ol 


Knowledge  and  Religiotis  Duty, 

answer  him  ; but  he  will  have  a difficulty  in  proving  that 
any  real  conversion  follows  from  a doctrine  which  makes 
virtue  a mere  point  of  good  taste,  and  vice  vulgar  and 
ungentlemanlike. 

Such  a doctrine  is  essentially  superficial,  and  such  will 
be  its  effects.  It  has  no  better  measure  of  right  and 
wrong  than  that  of  visible  beauty  and  tangible  fitness. 
Conscience  indeed  inflicts  an  acute  pang,  but  that  pang, 
forsooth,  is  irrational,  and  to  reverence  it  is  an  illiberal 
superstition.  But,  if  we  will  make  light  of  what  is  deepest 
within  us,  nothing  is  left  but  to  pay  homage  to  what  is 
more  upon  the  surface.  To  seem  becomes  to  be ; what 
looks  fair  will  be  good,  what  causes  offence  will  be  evil ; 
virtue  will  be  what  pleases,  vice  what  pains.  As  well 
may  we  measure  virtue  by  utility  as  by  such  a rule. 
Nor  is  this  an  imaginary  apprehension ; we  all  must 
recollect  the  celebrated  sentiment  into  which  a great  and 
wise  man  was  betrayed,  in  the  glowing  eloquence  of  his 
valediction  to  the  spirit  of  chivalry.  It  is  gone,”  cries 
Mr.  Burke  ; that  sensibility  of  principle,  that  chastity 
of  honour,  which  felt  a stain  like  a wound  ; which  inspired 
courage,  while  it  mitigated  ferocity;  which  ennobled 
whatever  it  touched,  and  under  which  vice  lost  half  its 
evil  by  losing  all  its  grossnessr  In  the  last  clause  of  this 
beautiful  sentence  we  have  too  apt  an  illustration  of  the 
ethical  temperament  of  a civilized  age.  It  is  detection, 
not  the  sin,  which  is  the  crime ; private  life  is  sacred, 
and  inquiry  into  it  is  intolerable ; and  decency  is  virtue. 
Scandals,  vulgarities,  whatever  shocks,  whatever  disgusts, 
are  offences  of  the  first  order.  Drinking  and  swearing, 
squalid  poverty,  improvidence,  laziness,  slovenly  disorder, 
make  up  the  idea  of  profligacy  : poets  may  say  any 
thing,  however  wicked,  with  impunity ; works  of  genius 
may  be  read  without  danger  or  shame,  whatever  their 


^02 


Discourse  VllL 


principles  ; fashion,  celebrity,  the  beautiful,  the  heroic, 
will  suffice  to  force  any  evil  upon  the  community.  The 
splendours  of  a court,  and  the  charms  of  good  society, 
wit,  imagination,  taste,  and  high  breeding,  the  prestige 
of  rank,  and  the  resources  of  wealth,  are  a screen,  an 
instrument,  and  an  apology  for  vice  and  irreligion.  And 
thus  at  length  we  find,  surprising  as  the  change  may  be, 
that  that  very  refinement  of  Intellectualism,  which  began 
by  repelling  sensuality,  ends  by  excusing  it.  Under  the 
shadow  indeed  of  the  Church,  and  in  its  due  development. 
Philosophy  does  service  to  the  cause  of  morality  ; but, 
when  it  is  strong  enough  to  have  a will  of  its  own,  and  is 
lifted  up  with  an  idea  of  its  own  importance,  and  attempts 
to  form  a theory,  and  to  lay  down  a principle,  and  to 
carry  out  a system  of  ethics,  and  undertakes  the  moral 
education  of  the  man,  then  it  does  but  abet  evils  to 
which  at  first  it  seemed  instinctively  opposed.  True 
Religion  is  slow  in  growth,  and,  when  once  planted,  is 
difficult  of  dislodgement ; but  its  intellectual  counterfeit 
has  no  root  in  itself : it  springs  up  suddenly,  it  suddenly 
withers.  It  appeals  to  what  is  in  nature,  and  it  falls 
under  the  dominion  of  the  old  Adam.  Then,  like 
dethroned  princes,  it  keeps  up  a state  and  majesty, 
when  it  has  lost  the  real  power.  Deformity  is  its  abhor- 
rence ; accordingly,  since  it  cannot  dissuade  men  from 
vice,  therefore  in  order  to  escape  the  sight  of  its  deformity, 
it  embellishes  it.  It  skins  and  films  the  ulcerous 
place,''  which  it  cannot  probe  or  heal. 

Whiles  rank  corruption,  mining  all  within, 

Infects  unseen.” 

And  from  this  shallowness  of  philosophical  Religion 
it  comes  to  pass  that  its  disciples  seem  able  to  fulfil  certain 
precepts  of  Christianity  more  readily  and  exactly  than 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty.  203 

Christians  themselves.  St.  Paul,  as  I have  said,  gives  us 
a pattern  of  evangelical  perfection  ; he  draws  the  Chris- 
tian character  in  its  most  graceful  form,  and  its  most 
beautiful  hues.  He  discourses  of  that  charity  which  is 
patient  and  meek,  humble  and  single-minded,  disinter- 
ested, contented,  and  persevering.  He  tells  us  to  prefer 
each  the  other  before  himself,  to  give  way  to  each  other, 
to  abstain  from  rude  words  and  evil  speech,  to  avoid  self- 
conceit,  to  be  calm  and  grave,  to  be  cheerful  and  happy,  to 
observe  peace  with  all  men,  truth  and  justice,  courtesy  and 
gentleness,  all  that  is  modest,  amiable,  virtuous,  and  oi 
good  repute.  Such  is  St.  Paul’s  exemplar  of  the  Chris- 
tian in  his  external  relations  ; and,  I repeat,  the  school  of 
the  world  seems  to  send  out  living  copies  of  this  typical 
excellence  with  greater  success  than  the  Church.  At 
this  day  the  “ gentleman  ” is  the  creation,  not  of  Chris- 
tianity, but  of  civilization.  But  the  reason  is  obvious. 
The  world  is  content  with  setting  right  the  surface  of 
things  ; the  Church  aims  at  regenerating  the  very  depths 
of  the  heart.  She  ever  begins  with  the  beginning  ; and, 
as  regards  the  multitude  of  her  children,  is  never  able 
to  get  beyond  the  beginning,  but  is  continually  employed 
in  laying  the  foundation.  She  is  engaged  with  what  is 
essential,  as  previous  and  as  introductory  to  the  orna- 
mental and  the  attractive.  She  is  curing  men  and  keep- 
ing them  clear  of  mortal  sin  ; she  is  treating  of  justice 
and  chastity,  and  the  judgment  to  come she  is  insist- 
ing on  faith  and  hope,  and  devotion,  and  honesty, 
and  the  elements  of  charity;  and  has  so  much  to  do  with 
precept,  that  she  almost  leaves  it  to  inspirations  from 
Heaven  to  suggest  what  is  of  counsel  and  perfection. 
She  aims  at  what  is  necessary  rather  than  at  what  is  de- 
sirable. She  is  for  the  many  as  well  as  for  the  few.  She 
is  putting  souls  in  the  way  of  salvation,  that  they  may 


204 


Discourse  VIII. 


then  be  in  a condition,  if  they  shall  be  called  upon,  to 
aspire  to  the  heroic,  and  to  attain  the  full  proportions,  as 
well  as  the  rudiments,  of  the  beautiful 

9- 

Such  is  the  method,  or  the  policy  (so  to  call  it),  of  the 
Church  ; but  Philosophy  looks  at  the  matter  from  a very 
different  point  of  view : what  have  Philosophers  to  do 
with  the  terror  of  judgment  or  the  saving  of  the  soul  ? 
Lord  Shaftesbury  calls  the  former  a sort  of panic  fear/’ 
Of  the  latter  he  scofifingly  complains  that  the  saving  of 
souls  is  now  the  heroic  passion  of  exalted  spirits.”  Of 
course  he  is  at  liberty,  on  his  principles,  to  pick  and 
choose  out  of  Christianity  what  he  will ; he  discards  the 
theological,  the  mysterious,  the  spiritual ; he  makes 
selection  of  the  morally  or  esthetically  beautiful  To 
him  it  matters  not  at  all  that  he  begins  his  teaching 
where  he  should  end  it ; it  matters  not  that,  instead  of 
planting  the  tree,  he  merely  crops  its  flowers  for  his  ban- 
quet ; he  only  aims  at  the  present  life,  his  philosophy 
dies  with  him ; if  his  flowers  do  but  last  to  the  end  of 
his  revel,  he  has  nothing  more  to  seek.  When  night  i 
comes,  the  withered  leaves  may  be  mingled  with  his  own 
ashes ; he  and  they  will  have  done  their  work,  he  and 
they  will  be  no  more.  Certainly,  it  costs  little  to  make 
men  virtuous  on  conditions  such  as  these  ; it  is  like 
teaching  them  a language  or  an  accomplishment,  to 
write  Latin  or  to  play  on  an  instrument, — the  profession 
of  an  artist,  not  the  commission  of  an  Apostle. 

This  embellishment  of  the  exterior  is  almost  the  be- 
ginning  and  the  end  of  philosophical  morality.  This  is  j 
why  it  aims  at  being  modest  rather  than  humble ; this  jj 
is  how  it  can  be  proud  at  the  very  time  that  it  is  unas-  | 
suming  To  humility  indeed  it  does  not  even  aspire;  ' 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty.  205 

humility  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  of  virtues  both  to 
attain  and  to  ascertain.  It  lies  close  upon  the  heart 
itself,  and  its  tests  are  exceedingly  delicate  and  subtle. 
Its  counterfeits  abound  ; however,  we  are  little  concerned 
with  them  here,  for,  I repeat,  it  is  hardly  professed  even 
by  name  in  the  code  of  ethics  which  we  are  reviewing. 
As  has  been  often  observed,  ancient  civilization  had 
not  the  idea,  and  had  no  word  to  express  it : or  rather, 
it  had  the  idea,  and  considered  it  a defect  of  mind,  not 
a virtue,  so  that  the  word  which  denoted  it  conveyed  a 
reproach.  As  to  the  modern  world,  you  may  gather  its 
ignorance  of  it  by  its  perversion  of  the  somewhat 
parallel  term  '‘condescension.”  Humility  or  condescen- 
sion, viewed  as  a virtue  of  conduct,  may  be  said  to  con- 
sist. as  in  other  things,  so  in  our  placing  ourselves  in  our 
thoughts  on  a level  with  our  inferiors  ; it  is  not  only  a 
voluntary  relinquishment  of  the  privileges  of  our  own 
station,  but  an  actual  participation  or  assumption  of  the 
condition  of  those  to  whom  we  stoop.  This  is  true 
humility,  to  feel  and  to  behave  as  if  we  were  low;  not,  to 
cherish  a notion  of  our  importance,  while  we  affect  a low 
position.  Such  was  St.  Paul’s  humility,  when  he  called 
himself  " the  least  of  the  saints;”  such  the  humility  of 
those  many  holy  men  who  have  considered  themselves 
the  greatest  of  sinners.  It  is  an  abdication,  as  far  as  their 
own  thoughts  are  concerned,  of  those  prerogatives  or 
privileges  to  which  others  deem  them  entitled.  Now  it  is 
not  a little  instructive  to  contrast  with  this  idea.  Gentle- 
men,— with  this  theological  meaning  of  the  word  ''  con- 
descension,”- -its  proper  English  sense ; put  them  in 
juxta-position,  and  you  will  at  once  see  the  difference 
beween  the  world’s  humility  and  the  humility  of  the 
Gospel.  As  the  world  uses  the  word,  ‘‘condescension” 
is  a stooping  indeed  of  the  person,  but  a bending  for- 


206 


Discourse  VIIL 


ward,  unattended  with  any  the  slightest  effort  to  leave  by 
a single  inch  the  seat  in  which  it  is  so  firmly  established. 
It  is  the  act  of  a superior,  who  protests  to  himself,  while 
he  commits  it,  that  he  is  superior  still,  and  that  he  is  doing 
nothing  else  but  an  act  of  grace  towards  those  on  whose 
level,  in  theory,  he  is  placing  himself.  And  this  is  the 
nearest  idea  which  the  philosopher  can  form  of  the  virtue 
of  self-abasement ; to  do  more  than  this  is  to  his  mind  a 
meanness  or  an  hypocrisy,  and  at  once  excites  his  sus- 
picion and  disgust.  What  the  world  is,  such  it  has  ever 
been  ; we  know  the  contempt  which  the  educated  pagans 
had  for  the  martyrs  and  confessors  of  the  Church  ; and 
it  is  shared  by  the  anti-Catholic  bodies  of  this  day. 

Such  are  the  ethics  of  Philosophy,  when  faithfully  re- 
presented ; but  an  age  like  this,  not  pagan,  but  profes- 
sedly Christian,  cannot  venture  to  reprobate  humility  in 
set  terms,  or  to  make  a boast  of  pride.  Accordingly,  it 
looks  out  for  some  expedient  by  which  it  may  blind 
itself  to  the  real  state  of  the  case.  Humility,  with 
its  grave  and  self-denying  attributes,  it  cannot  love  ; 
but  what  is  more  beautiful,  what  more  winning,  than 
modesty  what  virtue,  at  first  sight,  simulates  humility 
so  well  } though  what  in  fact  is  more  radically  distinct 
from  it  'i  In  truth,  great  as  is  its  charm,  modesty  is  not 
the  deepest  or  the  most  religious  of  virtues.  Rather  it  is 
the  advanced  guard  or  sentinel  of  the  soul  militant,  and 
v\atches  continually  over  its  nascent  intercourse  with  the 
world  about  it.  It  goes  the  round  of  the  senses ; it 
mounts  up  into  the  countenance  ; it  protects  the  eye  and 
ear;  it  reigns  in  the  voice  and  gesture.  Its  province  is 
the  outward  deportment,  as  other  virtues  have  relation 
to  matters  theological,  others  to  society,  and  others  to 
the  mind  itself.  And  being  more  superficial  than  other 
virtues,  it  is  more  easily  disjoined  from  their  company  ; it 


20] 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty. 

admits  of  being  associated  with  principles  or  qualities 
naturally  foreign  to  it,  and  is  often  made  the  cloak  of 
feelings  or  ends  for  which  it  was  never  given  to  us.  So 
little  is  it  the  necessary  index  of  humility,  that  it  is  even 
compatible  with  pride.  The  better  for  the  purpose  of 
Philosophy  ; humble  it  cannot  be,  so  forthwith  modesty 
becomes  its  humility. 

Pride,  under  such  training,  instead  of  running  to  waste 
in  the  education  of  the  mind,  is  turned  to  account ; it 
gets  a new  name ; it  is  called  self-respect ; and  ceases  to 
be  the  disagreeable,  uncompanionable  quality  which  it  is 
in  itself.  Though  it  be  the  motive  principle  of  the  soul, 
it  seldom  comes  to  view ; and  when  it  shows  itself,  then 
delicacy  and  gentleness  are  its  attire,  and  good  sense 
and  sense  of  honour  direct  its  motions.  It  is  no  longer 
a restless  agent,  without  definite  aim  ; it  has  a large  field 
of  exertion  assigned  to  it,  and  it  subserves  those  social 
interests  which  it  would  naturally  trouble.  It  is  directed 
into  the  channel  of  industry,  frugality,  honesty,  and  obe- 
dience ; and  it  becomes  the  very  staple  of  the  religion 
and  morality  held  in  honour  in  a day  like  our  own.  It 
becomes  the  safeguard  of  chastity,  the  guarantee  of  vera- 
city, in  high  and  low ; it  is  the  very  household  god  of 
society,  as  at  present  constituted,  inspiring  neatness  and 
decency  in  the  servant  girl,  propriety  of  carriage  and  re- 
fined manners  in  her  mistress,  uprightness,  manliness,  and 
generosity  in  the  head  of  the  family.  It  diffuses  a light 
over  town  and  country  ; it  covers  the  soil  with  handsome 
edifices  and  smiling  gardens  ; it  tills  the  field,  it  stocks 
and  embellishes  the  shop.  It  is  the  stimulating  principle 
of  providence  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  free  expenditure  on 
the  other;  of  an  honourable  ambition,  and  of  elegant  en- 
joyment. It  breathes  upon  the  face  of  the  community,  and 
the  hollow  sepulchre  is  forthwith  beautiful  to  look  upon. 


2o8 


Discourse  VIIL 


Refined  by  the  civilization  which  has  brought  it  into 
activity,  this  self-respect  infuses  into  the  mind  an  intense 
horror  of  exposure,  and  a keen  sensitiveness  of  notoriety 
and  ridicule.  It  becomes  the  enemy  of  extravagances  of 
any  kind  ; it  shrinks  from  what  are  called  scenes  ; it  has 
no  mercy  on  the  mock-heroic,  on  pretence  or  egotism,  on 
verbosity  in  language,  or  what  is  called  prosiness  in  con- 
versation. It  detests  gross  adulation  ; not  that  it  tends 
at  all  to  the  eradication  of  the  appetite  to  which  the 
flatterer  ministers,  but  it  sees  the  absurdity  of  indulging 
it,  it  understands  the  annoyance  thereby  given  to  others, 
and  if  a tribute  must  be  paid  to  the  wealthy  or  the  power- 
ful, it  demands  greater  subtlety  and  art  in  the  prepara- 
tion. Thus  vanity  is  changed  into  a more  dangerous 
self-conceit,  as  being  checked  in  its  natural  eruption. 
It  teaches  men  to  suppress  their  feelings,  and  to  control 
their  tempers,  and  to  mitigate  both  the  severity  and  the 
tone  of  their  judgments.  As  Lord  Shaftesbury  would 
desire,  it  prefers  playful  wit  and  satire  in  putting  down 
what  is  objectionable,  as  a more  refined  and  good- 
natured,  as  well  as  a more  effectual  method,  than  the 
expedient  which  is  natural  to  uneducated  minds.  It  is 
from  this  impatience  of  the  tragic  and  the  bombastic 
that  it  is  now  quietly  but  energetically  opposing  itself  to 
the  unchristian  practice  of  duelling,  which  it  brands  as 
simply  out  of  taste,  and  as  the  remnant  of  a barbarous 
age  ; and  certainly  it  seems  likely  to  effect  what  Religion 
has  aimed  at  abolishing  in  vain. 


lO. 

Hence  it  is  that  it  is  almost  a definition  of  a gentle- 
man to  say  he  is  one  who  never  inflicts  pain.  This 
description  is  both  refined  and,  as  far  as  it  goes,  ac- 
curate. He  is  mainly  occupied  in  merely  removing  the 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty. 

obstacles  which  hinder  the  free  and  unembarrassed 
action  of  those  about  him  ; and  he  concurs  with  their 
movements  rather  than  takes  the  initiative  himself.  His 
benefits  may  be  considered  as  parallel  to  what  are  called 
comforts  or  conveniences  in  arrangements  of  a personal 
nature : like  an  easy  chair  or  a good  fire,  which  do  their 
part  in  dispelling  cold  and  fatigue,  though  nature  pro- 
vides both  means  of  rest  and  animal  heat  without  them. 
The  true  gentleman  in  like  manner  carefully  avoids 
whatever  may  cause  a jar  or  a jolt  in  the  minds  of  those 
with  whom  he  is  cast ; — all  clashing  of  opinion,  or 
collision  of  feeling,  all  restraint,  or  suspicion,  or  gloom, 
or  resentment  ; his  great  concern  being  to  make  every 
one  at  their  ease  and  at  home.  He  has  his  eyes  on  all 
his  company;  he  is  tender  towards  the  bashful,  gentle 
towards  the  distant,  and  merciful  towards  the  absurd  ; 
he  can  recollect  to  whom  he  is  speaking  ; he  guards 
against  unseasonable  allusions,  or  topics  which  may 
irritate  ; he  is  seldom  prominent  in  conversation,  and 
never  wearisome.  He  makes  light  of  favours  while  he 
does  them,  and  seems  to  be  receiving  when  he  is  con- 
ferring. He  never  speaks  of  himself  except  when  com- 
pelled, never  defends  himself  by  a mere  retort,  he  has  no 
ears  for  slander  or  gossip,  is  scrupulous  in  imputing 
motives  to  those  who  interfere  with  him,  and  interprets 
every  thing  for  the  best.  He  is  never  mean  or  little  in 
his  disputes,  never  takes  unfair  advantage,  never  mis- 
takes personalities  or  sharp  sayings  for  arguments,  or  in- 
sinuates evil  which  he  dare  not  say  out.  From  a long- 
sighted prudence,  he  observes  the  maxim  of  the  ancient 
sage,  that  we  should  ever  conduct  ourselves  towards  our 
enemy  as  if  he  were  one  day  to  be  our  friend.  He  has 
too  much  good  sense  to  be  affronted  at  insults,  he  is  too 
well  employed  to  remember  injuries,  and  too  indolent  to 

14 


210 


Discourse  VIII. 


bear  malice.  He  is  patient,  forbearing,  and  resigned,  on 
philosophical  principles  ; he  submits  to  pain,  because  it 
is  inevitable,  to  bereavement,  because  it  is  irreparable, 
and  to  death,  because  it  is  his  destiny.  If  he  engages  in 
controversy  of  any  kind,  his  disciplined  intellect  preserves 
him  from  the  blundering  discourtesy  of  better,  perhaps, 
but  less  educated  minds  ; who,  like  blunt  weapons, 
tear  and  hack  instead  of  cutting  clean,  who  mistake  the 
point  in  argument,  waste  their  strength  on  trifles,  mis- 
conceive their  adversary,  and  leave  the  question  more 
involved  than  they  find  it.  He  may  be  right  or  wrong 
in  his  opinion,  but  he  is  too  clear-headed  to  be  unjust ; 
he  is  as  simple  as  he  is  forcible,  and  as  brief  as  he  is 
decisive.  Nowhere  shall  we  find  greater  candour,  con- 
sideration, indulgence  : he  throws  himself  into  the  minds 
of  his  opponents,  he  accounts  for  their  mistakes.  He 
knows  the  weakness  of  human  reason  as  well  as  its 
strength,  its  province  and  its  limits.  If  he  be  an  un- 
believer, he  will  be  too  profound  and  large-minded  to 
ridicule  religion  or  to  act  against  it ; he  is  too  wise  to  be 
a dogmatist  or  fanatic  in  his  infidelity.  He  respects  piety 
and  devotion ; he  even  supports  institutions  as  vene- 
rable, beautiful,  or  useful,  to  which  he  does  not  assent ; 
he  honours  the  ministers  of  religion,  and  it  contents 
him  to  decline  its  mysteries  without  assailing  or  de- 
nouncing them.  He  is  a friend  of  religious  toleration, 
and  that,  not  only  because  his  philosophy  has  taught 
him  to  look  on  all  forms  of  faith  with  an  impartial  eye, 
but  also  from  the  gentleness  and  effeminacy  of  feeling, 
which  is  the  attendant  on  civilization. 

Not  that  he  may  not  hold  a religion  too,  in  his  own 
way,  even  when  he  is  not  a Christian.  In  that  case  his 
religion  is  one  of  imagination  and  sentiment ; it  is  the 
embodiment  of  those  ideas  of  the  sublime,  majestic. 


211 


Knowledge  and  Religious  Duty, 

and  beautiful,  without  which  there  can  be  no  large 
philosophy.  Sometimes  he  acknowledges  the  being  of 
God,  sometimes  he  invests  an  unknown  principle  or 
quality  with  the  attributes  of  perfection.  And  this  de- 
duction of  his  reason,  or  creation  of  his  fancy,  he  makes 
the  occasion  of  such  excellent  thoughts,  and  the  start- 
ing-point of  so  varied  and  systematic  a teaching,  that  he 
even  seems  like  a disciple  of  Christianity  itself.  From 
the  very  accuracy  and  steadiness  of  his  logical  powers, 
he  is  able  to  see  what  sentiments  are  consistent  in  those 
who  hold  any  religious  doctrine  at  all,  and  he  appears  to 
others  to  feel  and  to  hold  a whole  circle  of  theological 
truths,  which  exist  in  his  mind  no  otherwise  than  as  a 
number  of  deductions. 

Such  are  some  of  the  lineaments  of  the  ethical  charac- 
ter, which  the  cultivated  intellect  will  form,  apart  from 
religious  principle.  They  are  seen  within  the  pale  of  the 
Church  and  without  it,  in  holy  men,  and  in  profligate  ; 
they  form  the  beau-ideal  of  the  world  ; they  partly  assist 
and  partly  distort  the  development  of  the  Catholic. 
They  may  subserve  the  education  of  a St.  Francis  de 
Sales  or  a Cardinal  Pole  ; they  may  be  the  limits  of  the 
contemplation  of  a Shaftesbury  or  a Gibbon.  Basil  and 
Julian  were  fellow-students  at  the  schools  of  Athens; 
and  one  became  the  Saint  and  Doctor  of  the  Church,  the 
other  her  scoffing  and  relentless  foe. 


2l2 


DISCOURSE  IX. 

DUTIES  OF  THE  CHURCH  TOWARDS  KNOWLEDGE. 

I. 

I HAVE  to  congratulate  myself,  Gentlemen,  that  at  \ 
length  I have  accomplished,  with  whatever  success, 
the  difficult  and  anxious  undertaking  to  which  I have 
been  immediately  addressing  myself.  Difficult  and 
anxious  it  has  been  in  truth,  though  the  main  subject  of 
University  Teaching  has  been  so  often  and  so  ably  dis- 
cussed already  ; for  I have  attempted  to  follow  out  a line 
of  thought  more  familiar  to  Protestants  just  now  than 
to  Catholics,  upon  Catholic  grounds.  I declared  my 
intention,  when  I opened  the  subject,  of  treating  it  as  a 
philosophical  and  practical,  rather  than  as  a theological 
question,  with  an  appeal  to  common  sense,  not  to 
ecclesiastical  rules  ; and  for  this  very  reason,  while  my 
argument  has  been  less  ambitious,  it  has  been  deprived  of 
the  lights  and  supports  which  another  mode  of  handling 
it  would  have  secured. 

No  anxiety,  no  effort  of  mind  is  more  severe  than 
his,  who  in  a difficult  matter  has  it  seriously  at  heart 
to  investigate  without  error  and  to  instruct  without 
obscurity  ; as  to  myself,  if  the  past  discussion  has  at  any 
time  tried  the  patience  of  the  kind  persons  who  have 
given  it  their  attention,  I can  assure  them  that  on  no 
one  can  it  have  inflicted  so  great  iabour  and  fatigue  as 


DtUies  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge,  213 

on  myself.  Happy  they  who  are  engaged  in  provinces 
of  thought,  so  familiarly  traversed  and  so  thoroughly 
explored,  that  they  see  every  where  the  footprints,  the 
paths,  the  landmarks,  and  the  remains  of  former  tra- 
vellers, and  can  never  step  wrong ; but  for  myself. 
Gentlemen,  I have  felt  like  a navigator  on  a strange  sea, 
who  is  out  of  sight  of  land,  is  surprised  by  night,  and  has 
to  trust  mainly  to  the  rules  and  instruments  of  his  science 
for  reaching  the  port.  The  everlasting  mountains,  the 
high  majestic  cliffs,  of  the  opposite  coast,  radiant  in  the 
sunlight,  which  are  our  ordinary  guides,  fail  us  in  an 
excursion  such  as  this  ; the  lessons  of  antiquity,  the 
determinations  of  authority,  are  here  rather  the  needle, 
chart,  and  plummet,  than  great  objects,  with  distinct  and 
continuous  outlines  and  completed  details,  which  stand 
up  and  confront  and  occupy  our  gaze,  and  relieve  us 
from  the  tension  and  suspense  of  our  personal  obser- 
vation. And  thus,  in  spite  of  the  pains  we  may  take 
to  consult  others  and  avoid  mistakes,  it  is  not  till  the 
morning  comes  and  the  shore  greets  us,  and  we  see  our 
vessel  making  straight  for  harbour,  that  we  relax  our 
jealous  watch,  and  consider  anxiety  irrational.  Such  in 
a measure  has  been  my  feeling  in  the  foregoing  inquiry; 
in  which  indeed  I have  been  in  want  neither  of  authori- 
tative principles  nor  distinct  precedents,  but  of  treatises 
in  extenso  on  the  subject  on  which  I have  written, — the 
finished  work  of  writers,  who,  by  their  acknowledged 
judgment  and  erudition,  might  furnish  me  for  my  private 
guidance  with  a running  instruction  on  each  point  which 
successively  came  under  review. 

1 have  spoken  of  the  arduousness  of  my  ‘immediate” 
undertaking,  because  what  I have  been  attempting  has 
been  of  a preliminary  nature,  not  contemplating  the 
duties  of  the  Church  towards  a University,  nor  the 


214 


Discourse  IX. 


characteristics  of  a University  which  is  Catholic,  but 
inquiring  what  a University  is,  what  is  its  aim,  what  its 
nature,  what  its  bearings.  I have  accordingly  laid  down 
first,  that  all  branches  of  knowledge  are,  at  least  im- 
plicitly, the  subject-matter  of  its  teaching ; that  these 
branches  are  not  isolated  and  independent  one  of  an- 
other, but  form  together  a whole  or  system ; that  they 
run  into  each  other,  and  complete  each  other,  and  that, 
in  proportion  to  our  view  of  them  as  a whole,  is  the 
exactness  and  trustworthiness  of  the  knowledge  which 
tliey  separately  convey ; that  the  process  of  imparting 
knowledge  to  the  intellect  in  this  philosophical  way  is 
its  true  culture  ; that  such  culture  is  a good  in  itself ; that 
the  knowledge  which  is  both  its  instrument  and  result  is 
called  Liberal  Knowledge ; that  such  culture,  together 
with  the  knowledge  which  effects  it,  may  fitly  be  sought 
for  its  own  sake ; that  it  is,  however,  in  addition,  of  great 
secular  utility,  as  constituting  the  best  and  highest  for- 
mation of  the  intellect  for  social  and  political  life ; and 
lastly,  that,  considered  in  a religious  aspect,  it  concurs 
with  Christianity  a certain  way,  and  then  diverges  from 
it;  and  consequently  proves  in  the  event,  sometimes  its 
serviceable  ally,  sometimes,  from  its  very  resemblance  to 
it,  an  insidious  and  dangerous  foe. 

Though,  however,  these  Discourses  have  only  pro- 
fessed to  be  preliminary,  being  directed  to  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  object  and  nature  of  the  Education  which  a 
University  professes  to  impart,  at  the  same  time  I do  not 
like  to  conclude  without  making  some  remarks  upon  the 
duties  of  the  Church  towards  it,  or  rather  on  the  ground 
of  those  duties.  If  the  Catholic  Faith  is  true,  a Univer- 
sity cannot  exist  externally  to  the  Catholic  pale,  for  it 
cannot  teach  Universal  Knowledge  if  it  does  not  teach 
Catholic  theology.  This  is  certain  ; but  still,  though  it 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge,  2 1 5 

had  ever  so  many  theological  Chairs,  that  would  not 
suffice  to  make  it  a Catholic  University;  for  theology 
would  be  included  in  its  teaching  only  as  a branch  of 
knowledge,  only  as  one  out  of  many  constituent  portions, 
however  important  a one,  of  what  I have  called  Philos- 
ophy. Hence  a direct  and  active  jurisdiction  of  the 
Church  over  it  and  in  it  is  necessary,  lest  it  should  be- 
come the  rival  of  the  Church  with  the  community  at 
large  in  those  theological  matters  which  to  the  Church 
are  exclusively  committed, — acting  as  the  representative 
of  the  intellect,  as  the  Church  is  the  representative  of  the 
religious  principle.  The  illustration  of  this  proposition 
shall  be  the  subject  of  my  concluding  Discourse. 

2. 

I say  then,  that,  even  though  the  case  could  be  so 
that  the  whole  system  of  Catholicism  was  recognized  and 
professed,  without  the  direct  presence  of  the  Church, 
still  this  would  not  at  once  make  such  a University  a 
Catholic  Institution,  nor  be  sufficient  to  secure  the  due 
weight  of  religious  considerations  in  its  philosophical 
studies.  For  it  may  easily  happen  that  a particular 
bias  or  drift  may  characterize  an  Institution,  which  no 
rules  can  reach,  nor  officers  remedy,  nor  professions 
or  promises  counteract.  We  have  an  instance  of  such 
a case  in  the  Spanish  Inquisition  ; — here  was  a purely 
Catholic  establishment,  devoted  to  the  maintenance,  or 
rather  the  ascendancy  of  Catholicism,  keenly  zealous  for 
theological  truth,  the  stern  foe  of  every  anti-Catholic 
idea,  and  administered  by  Catholic  theologians  ; yet  it 
in  no  proper  sense  belonged  to  4:he  Church.  It  was 
simply  and  entirely  a State  institution,  it  was  an  expres- 
sion of  that  very  Church-and-King  spirit  which  has  pre- 
vailed in  these  islands ; nay,  it  was  an  instrument  of  the 


2i6 


Discourse  IX. 


State,  according  to  the  confession  of  the  acutest  Protes- 
tant historians,  in  its  warfare  against  the  Holy  See.  Con- 
sidered materially  I'  it  was  nothing  but  Catholic ; but 
its  spirit  and  form  were  earthly  and  secular,  in  spite  of 
whatever  faith  and  zeal  and  sanctity  and  charity  were  to 
be  found  in  the  individuals  who  from  time  to  time  h^d  a 
share  in  its  administration.  And  in  like  manner,  it  is  no 
sufficient  security  for  the  Catholicity  of  a University, 
even  that  the  whole  of  Catholic  theology  should  be  pro- 
fessed in  it,  unless  the  Church  breathes  her  own  pure  and 
unearthly  spirit  into  it,  and  fashions  and  moulds  its 
organization,  and  watches  over  its  teaching,  and  knits 
together  its  pupils,  and  superintends  its  action.  The 
Spanish  Inquisition  came  into  collision  with  the  supreme 
Catholic  authority,  and  that,  from  the  fact  that  its  imme- 
diate end  was  of  a secular  character ; and  for  the  same 
reason,  whereas  Academical  Institutions  (as  I have  been 
so  long  engaged  in  showing)  are  in  their  very  nature 
directed  to  social,  national,  temporal  objects  in  the  first 
instance,  and  since  they  are  living  and  energizing  bodies, 
if  they  deserve  the  name  of  University  at  all,  and  ol 
necessity  have  some  one  formal  and  definite  ethical  cha- 
racter, good  or  bad,  and  do  of  a certainty  imprint  that 
character  on  the  individuals  who  direct  and  who  frequent 
them,  it  cannot  but  be  that,  if  left  to  themselves,  they 
will,  in  spite  of  their  profession  of  Catholic  Truth,  work 
out  results  more  or  less  prejudicial  to  its  interests. 

Nor  is  this  all : such  Institutions  may  become  hostile 
to  Revealed  Truth,  in  consequence  of  the  circumstances 
of  their  teaching  as  well  as  of  their  end.  They  are  em- 
ployed in  the  pursuit  of  Liberal  Knowledge,  and  Liberal 
Knowledge  has  a special  tendency,  not  necessary  oi 
rightful,  but  a tendency  in  fact,  when  cultivated  by 
beings  such  as  we  are,  to  impress  us  with  a mere  philo- 


Du  ties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  217 

sophical  theory  of  life  and  conduct,  in  the  place  of 
Revelation.  I have  said  much  on  this  subject  already. 
Truth  has  two  attributes — beauty  and  power ; and 
while  Useful  Knowledge  is  the  possession  of  truth  as 
powerful,  Liberal  Knowledge  is  the  apprehension  of  it  as 
beautiful.  Pursue  it,  either  as  beauty  or  as  power,  to  its 
furthest  extent  and  its  true  limit,  and  you  are  led  by 
either  road  to  the  Eternal  and  Infinite,  to  the  intimations 
of  conscience  and  the  announcements  of  the  Church. 
Satisfy  yourself  with  what  is  only  visibly  or  intelligibly 
excellent,  as  you  are  likely  to  do,  and  you  will  make 
present  utility  and  natural  beauty  the  practical  test  of 
truth,  and  the  sufficient  object  of  the  intellect.  It  is  not 
that  you  will  at  once  reject  Catholicism,  but  you  will 
measure  and  proportion  it  by  an  earthly  standard.  You 
will  throw  its  highest  and  most  momentous  disclosures 
into  the  background,  you  will  deny  its  principles,  explain 
away  its  doctrines,  re-arrange  its  precepts,  and  make 
light  of  its  practices,  even  while  you  profess  it.  Know- 
ledge, viewed  as  Knowledge,  exerts  a subtle  influence  in 
throwing  us  back  on  ourselves,  and  making  us  our  own 
centre,  and  our  minds  the  measure  of  all  things.  This 
then  is  the  tendency  of  that  Liberal  Education,  of  which 
a University  is  the  school,  viz.,  to  view  Revealed  Reli- 
gion from  an  aspect  of  its  own, — to  fuse  and  recast  it, — 
to  tune  it,  as  it  were,  to  a different  key,  and  to  reset  its 
harmonies, — to  circumscribe  it  by  a circle  which  unwar- 
rantably amputates  here,  and  unduly  developes  there ; 
and  all  under  the  notion,  conscious  or  unconscious, 
that  the  human  intellect,  self-educated  and  self-sup- 
ported, is  more  true  and  perfect  in  its  ideas  and  judg- 
ments than  that  of  Prophets  and  Apostles,  to  whom  the 
sights  and  sounds  of  Heaven  were  immediately  con- 
veyed. A sense  of  propriety,  order,  consistency,  c^nd 


2I8 


Discourse  IX. 


completeness  gives  birth  to  a rebellious  stirring  against 
miracle  and  mystery,  against  the  severe  and  the  terrible. 

This  Intellectualism  first  and  chiefly  comes  into  colli- 
sion with  precept,  then  with  doctrine,  then  with  the  very 
principle  of  dogmatism  ; — a perception  of  the  Beautiful 
becomes  the  substitute  for  faith.  In  a country  which 
does  not  profess  the  faith,  it  at  once  runs,  if  allowed,  into 
scepticism  or  infidelity ; but  even  within  the  pale  of  the 
Church,  and  with  the  most  unqualified  profession  of  her 
Creed,  it  acts,  if  left  to  itself,  as  an  element  of  corrup- 
tion and  debility.  Catholicism,  as  it  has  come  down  to 
us  from  the  first,  seems  to  be  mean  and  illiberal ; it  is  a 
mere  popular  religion  ; it  is  the  religion  of  illiterate  ages 
or  servile  populations  or  barbarian  warriors  ; it  must 
be  treated  with  discrimination  and  delicacy,  corrected, 
softened,  improved,  if  it  is  to  satisfy  an  enlightened 
generation.  It  must  be  stereotyped  as  the  patron  of 
arts,  or  the  pupil  of  speculation,  or  the  prot6g6  of  science; 
it  must  play  the  literary  academician,  or  the  empirical 
philanthropist,  or  the  political  partisan  ; it  must  keep 
up  with  the  age  ; some  or  other  expedient  it  must  devise, 
in  order  to  explain  away,  or  to  hide,  tenets  under  which 
the  intellect  labours  and  of  which  it  is  ashamed — its  doc* 
trine,  for  instance,  of  grace,  its  mystery  of  the  Godhead, 
its  preaching  of  the  Cross,  its  devotion  to  the  Queen  of 
Saints,  or  its  loyalty  to  the  Apostolic  See.  Let  this 
spirit  be  freely  evolved  out  of  that  philosophical  condition 
of  mind,  which  in  former  Discourses  I have  so  highly, 
so  justly  extolled,  and  it  is  impossible  but,  first  indiffer- 
ence, then  laxity  of  belief,  then  even  heresy  will  be  the 
successive  results. 

Here  then  are  two  injuries  which  Revelation  is  likely 
to  sustain  at  the  hands  of  the  Masters  of  human  reason 
unless  the  Church,  as  in  duty  bound,  protects  the  sacred 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  219 

treasure  which  is  in  jeopardy.  The  first  is  a simple 
ignoring  of  Theological  Truth  altogether,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  not  recognising  differences  of  religious  opinion  ; 
— which  will  only  take  place  in  countries  or  under  govern- 
ments which  have  abjured  Catholicism.  The  second, 
which  is  of  a more  subtle  character,  is  a recognition  indeed 
of  Catholicism,  but  (as  if  in  pretended  mercy  to  it)  an 
adulteration  of  its  spirit.  I will  now  proceed  to  describe 
the  dangers  I speak  of  more  distinctly,  by  a reference 
to  the  general  subject-matter  of  instruction  which  a 
University  undertakes. 

There  are  three  great  subjects  on  which  Human  Reason 
employs  itself: — God,  Nature,  and  Man  : and  theology 
being  put  aside  in  the  present  argument,  the  physical 
and  social  worlds  remain.  These,  when  respectively  sub- 
jected to  Human  Reason,  form  two  books  : the  book 
of  nature  is  called  Science,  the  book  of  man  is  called 
Literature.  Literature  and  Science,  thus  considered, 
nearly  constitute  the  subject-matter  of  Liberal  Educa- 
tion ; and,  while  Science  is  made  to  subserve  the  former 
of  the  two  injuries,  w’hich  Revealed  Truth  sustains, — its 
exclusion.  Literature  subserves  the  latter, — its  corruption. 
Let  us  consider  the  influence  of  each  upon  Religion 
separately. 


3- 

I.  As  to  Physical  Science,  of  course  there  can  be  no 
real  collision  between  it  and  Catholicism.  Nature  and 
Grace,  Reason  and  Revelation,  come  from  the  same 
Divine  Author,  whose  works  cannot  contradict  each 
other.  Nevertheless,  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  in  matter 
of  fact,  there  always  has  been  a sort  of  jealousy  and 
hostility  between  Religion  and  physical  philosophers. 
The  name  of  Galileo  reminds  us  of  it  at  once.  Not  con- 


220 


Discourse  IX. 


tent  u ith  investigating  and  reasoning  in  his  own  province, 
it  is  said,  he  went  out  of  his  way  directly  to  insult  the 
received  interpretation  of  Scripture  ; theologians  repelled 
an  attack  which  was  wanton  and  arrogant ; and  Science, 
affronted  in  her  minister,  has  taken  its  full  revenge  upon 
Theology  since.  A vast  multitude  of  its  teachers,  I fear 
it  must  be  said,  have  been  either  unbelievers  or  sceptics, 
or  at  least  have  denied  to  Christianity  any  teaching, 
distinctive  or  special,  over  the  Religion  of  Nature.  There 
have  indeed  been  most  illustrious  exceptions  ; some  men 
protected  by  their  greatness  of  mind,  some  by  their 
religious  profession,  some  by  the  fear  of  public  opinion; 
but  I suppose  the  run  of  experimentalists,  external  to 
the  Catholic  Church,  have  more  or  less  inherited  the 
positive  or  negative  unbelief  of  Laplace,  Bufifon,  Franklin, 
Priestley,  Cuvier,  and  Humboldt.  I do  not  of  course 
mean  to  say  that  there  need  be  in  every  case  a resentful 
and  virulent  opposition  made  to  Religion  on  the  part  of 
scientific  men;  but  their  emphatic  silence  or  phlegmatic 
inadvertence  as  to  its  claims  have  implied,  more  elo- 
quently than  any  words,  that  in  their  opinion  it  had  no 
voice  at  all  in  the  subject-matter,  which  they  had  ap- 
propriated to  themselves.  The  same  antagonism  shows 
itself  in  the  middle  ages.  Friar  Bacon  was  popularly 
regarded  with  suspicion  as  a dealer  in  unlawful  arts ; 
Pope  Sylvester  the  Second  has  been  accused  of  magic 
for  his  knowledge  of  natural  secrets ; and  the  geographical 
ideas  of  St.  Virgil,  Bishop  of  Saltzburg,  were  regarded 
with  anxiety  by  the  great  St.  Boniface,  the  glory  of 
England,  the  Martyr- Apostle  of  Germany.  I suppose, 
in  matter  of  fact,  magical  superstition  and  physical 
knowledge  did  commonly  go  together  in  those  ages : 
however,  the  hostility  between  experimental  science  and 
theology  is  far  older  than  Christianity.  Lord  Bacon 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  221 

traces  it  to  an  era  prior  to  Socrates  ; he  tells  us  that, 
among  the  Greeks,  the  atheistic  was  the  philosophy  most 
favourable  to  physical  discoveries,  and  he  does  not  hesi- 
tate to  imply  that  the  rise  of  the  religious  schools  was  the 
ruin  of  science.* 

Now,  if  we  would  investigate  the  reason  of  this  oppo- 
sition between  Theology  and  Physics,  I suppose  we  must 
first  take  into  account  Lord  Bacon's  own  explanation  of 
it.  It  is  common  in  judicial  inquiries  to  caution  the 
parties  on  whom  the  verdict  depends  to  put  out  of  their 
minds  whatever  they  have  heard  out  of  court  on  the  sub- 
ject to  which  their  attention  is  to  be  directed.  They  are  to 
judge  by  the  evidence ; and  this  is  a rule  which  holds  in 
other  investigations  as  far  as  this,  that  nothing  of  an  ad- 
ventitious nature  ought  to  be  introduced  into  the  process. 
In  like  manner,  from  religious  investigations,  as  such, 
physics  must  be  excluded,  and  from  physical,  as  such, 
religion  ; and  if  we  mix  them,  we  shall  spoil  both.  The 
theologian,  speaking  of  Divine  Omnipotence,  for  the  time 
simply  ignores  the  laws  of  nature  as  existing  restraints 
upon  its  exercise ; and  the  physical  philosopher,  on  the 
other  hand,  in  his  experiments  upon  natural  phenomena, 
is  simply  ascertaining  those  laws,  putting  aside  the  ques- 
tion of  that  Omnipotence.  If  the  theologian,  in  tracing 
the  ways  of  Providence,  were  stopped  with  objections 
grounded  on  the  impossibility  of  physical  miracles,  he 
would  justly  protest  against  the  interruption ; and  were 
the  philosopher,  who  was  determining  the  motion  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  to  be  questioned  about  their  Final  or 
their  First  Cause,  he  too  would  suffer  an  illogical  inter- 
ruption. The  latter  asks  the  cause  of  volcanoes,  and  is 
impatient  at  being  told  it  is  ‘'the  divine  vengeance;"  the 

* Vid.  Hallam’s  Literature  of  Europe,  Macaulay’s  Essay,  and  the  Author’s 
Oxford  University  Sermons,  IX. 


222 


Discourse  IX. 


former  asks  the  cause  of  the  overthrow  of  the  guilty 
cities,  and  is  preposterously  referred  to  the  volcanic 
action  still  visible  in  their  neighbourhood.  The  inquiry 
into  final  causes  for  the  moment  passes  over  the  exist- 
ence of  established  laws  ; the  inquiry  into  physical 
passes  over  for  the  moment  the  existence  of  God.  In 
other  words,  physical  science  is  in  a certain  sense  athe- 
istic, for  the  very  reason  it  is  not  theology. 

This  is  Lord  Bacon's  justification,  and  an  intelligible 
one,  for  considering  that  the  fall  of  atheistic  philosophy 
in  ancient  times  was  a blight  upon  the  hopes  of  physical 
science.  Aristotle,"  he  says,  Galen,  and  others  fre- 
quently introduce  such  causes  as  these  : — the  hairs  of 
the  eyelids  are  for  a fence  to  the  sight ; the  bones  for 
pillars  whence  to  build  the  bodies  of  animals ; the 
leaves  of  trees  are  to  defend  the  fruit  from  the  sun  and 
wind  ; the  clouds  are  designed  for  watering  the  earth. 
All  which  are  properly  alleged  in  metaphysics  ; but  in 
physics,  are  impertinent,  and  as  remoras  to  the  ship,  that 
hinder  the  sciences  from  holding  on  their  course  of 
improvement,  and  as  introducing  a neglect  of  searching 
after  physical  causes."^  Here  then  is  one  reason  for  the 
prejudice  of  physical  philosophers  against  Theology: — 
on  the  one  hand,  their  deep  satisfaction  in  the  laws  of 
nature  indisposes  them  towards  the  thought  of  a Moral 
Governor,  and  makes  them  sceptical  of  His  interpo- 
sition ; on  the  other  hand,  the  occasional  interference  of 
religious  criticism  in  a province  not  religious,  has  made 
them  sore,  suspicious,  and  resentful. 


4. 

Another  reason  of  a kindred  nature  is  to  be  found 
in  the  difference  of  method  by  which  truths  are  gained 
* In  Augment.,  5. 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  223 

in  theology  and  in  physical  science.  Induction  is  the 
instrument  of  Physics,  and  deduction  only  is  the  instru- 
ment of  Theology.  There  the  simple  question  is,  What 
is  revealed } all  doctrinal  knowledge  flows  from  one 
fountain  head.  If  we  are  able  to  enlarge  our  view  and 
multiply  our  propositions,  it  must  be  merely  by  the 
comparison  and  adjustment  of  the  original  truths  ; if  we 
would  solve  new  questions,  it  must  be  by  consulting  old 
answers.  The  notion  of  doctrinal  knowledge  absolutely 
novel,  and  of  simple  addition  from  without,  is  intole- 
rable to  Catholic  ears,  and  never  was  entertained  by 
any  one  who  was  even  approaching  to  an  understand- 
ing of  our  creed.  Revelation  is  all  in  all  in  doctrine  ; 
the  Apostles  its  sole  depository,  the  inferential  method 
its  sole  instrument,  and  ecclesiastical  authority  its  sole 
sanction.  The  Divine  Voice  has  spoken  once  for  all, 
and  the  only  question  is  about  its  meaning.  Now 
this  process,  as  far  as  it  was  reasoning,  was  the  very 
mode  of  reasoning  which,  as  regards  physical  know- 
ledge, the  school  of  Bacon  has  superseded  by  the  in- 
ductive method  : — no  wonder,  then,  that  that  school 
should  be  irritated  and  indignant  to  find  that  a subject- 
matter  remains  still,  in  which  their  favourite  instrument 
has  no  office ; no  wonder  that  they  rise  up  against  this 
memorial  of  an  antiquated  system,  as  an  eyesore  and  an 
insult ; and  no  wonder  that  the  very  force  and  dazzling 
success  of  their  own  method  in  its  own  departments 
should  sway  or  bias  unduly  the  religious  sentiments  of 
any  persons  who  come  under  its  influence.  They  assert 
that  no  new  truth  can  be  gained  by  deduction ; Catho- 
lics assent,  but  add  that,  as  regards  religious  truth,  they 
have  not  to  seek  at  all,  for  they  have  it  already.  Chris- 
tian Truth  is  purely  of  revelation ; that  revelation  we  can 
but  explain,  we  cannot  increase,  except  relatively  to  our 


2^4 


Discourse  IX, 


own  apprehensions ; without  it  we  should  have  known 
nothing  of  its  contents,  with  it  we  know  just  as  much  as  its 
contents,  and  nothing  more.  And,  as  it  was  given  by  a 
divine  act  independent  of  man,  so  will  it  remain  in  spite 
of  man.  Niebuhr  may  revolutionize  history,  Lavoisier 
chemistry,  Newton  astronomy;  but  God  Himself  is  the 
author  as  well  as  the  subject  of  theology.  When  Truth 
can  change,  its  Revelation  can  change ; when  human 
reason  can  outreason  the  Omniscient,  then  may  it  super- 
sede His  work. 

Avowals  such  as  these  fall  strange  upon  the  ear  of 
men  whose  first  principle  is  the  search  after  truth,  and 
whose  starting-points  of  search  are  things  material  and 
sensible.  They  scorn  any  process  of  inquiry  not  founded 
on  experiment ; the  Mathematics  indeed  they  endure, 
because  that  science  deals  with  ideas,  not  with  facts,  and 
leads  to  conclusions  hypothetical  rather  than  real ; 
“ Metaphysics’"  they  even  use  as  a by- word  of  reproach  ; 
and  Ethics  they  admit  only  on  condition  that  it  gives  up 
conscience  as  its  scientific  ground,  and  bases  itself  on 
tangible  utility : but  as  to  Theology,  they  cannot  deal 
with  it,  they  cannot  master  it,  and  so  they  simply  outlaw 
it  and  ignore  it.  Catholicism,  forsooth,  ‘‘  confines  the 
intellect,”  because  it  holds  that  God’s  intellect  is  greater 
than  theirs,  and  that  what  He  has  done,  man  cannot 
improve.  And  what  in  some  sort  justifies  them  to  them- 
selves in  this  extravagance  is  the  circumstance  that 
there  is  a religion  close  at  their  doors  which,  discarding 
so  severe  a tone,  has  actually  adopted  their  own 
principle  of  inquiry.  Protestantism  treats  Scripture  just 
as  they  deal  with  Nature;  it  takes  the  sacred  text  as  a 
large  collection  of  phenomena,  from  which,  by  an  in- 
ductive process,  each  individual  Christian  may  arrive  at 
just  those  religious  conclusions  which  approve  them- 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowtedge.  225 


selves  to  his  own  judgment.  It  considers  faith  a mere 
modification  of  reason,  as  being  an  acquiescence  in 
certain  probable  conclusions  till  better  are  found. 
Sympathy,  then,  if  no  other  reason,  throws  experimental 
philosophers  into  alliance  with  the  enemies  of  Catho- 
licism. 


5. 

I have  another  consideration  to  add,  not  less  impor- 
tant than  any  I have  hitherto  adduced.  The  physical 
sciences,  Astronomy,  Chemistry,  and  the  rest,  are 
doubtless  engaged  upon  divine  works,  and  cannot  issue 
in  untrue  religious  conclusions.  But  at  the  same  time  it 
must  be  recollected  that  Revelation  has  reference  to 
circumstances  which  did  not  arise  till  after  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  were  made.  They  were  made  before  the 
introduction  of  moral  evil  into  the  world : whereas  the 
Catholic  Church  is  the  instrument  of  a remedial  dispen- 
sation to  meet  that  introduction.  No  wonder  then  that 
her  teaching  is  simply  distinct,  though  not  divergent, 
from  the  theology  which  Physical  Science  suggests  to  its 
followers.  She  sets  before  us  a number  of  attributes 
and  acts  on  the  part  of  the  Divine  Being,  for  which  the 
material  and  animal  creation  gives  no  scope;  power, 
wisdom,  goodness  are  the  burden  of  the  physical  world, 
but  it  does  not  and  could  not  speak  of  mercy,  long- 
suffering,  and  the  economy  of  human  redemption,  and 
but  partially  of  the  iporal  law  and  moral  goodness. 

Sacred  Theology,'^  says  Lord  Bacon,  must  be  drawn 
from  the  words  and  the  oracles  of  God  : not  from  the 
light  of  nature  or  the  dictates  of  reason.  It  is  written, 
that  ‘ the  Heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God  but  we  no- 
where find  it  that  the  Heavens  declare  the  will  of  God  ; 
which  is  pronounced  a law  and  a testimony,  that  men 

15 


226 


Discourse  IX. 


should  do  according  to  it.  Nor  does  this  hold  only  in 
the  great  mysteries  of  the  Godhead,  of  the  creation, 
of  the  redemption.  . . . We  cannot  doubt  that  a large 
part  of  the  moral  law  is  too  sublime  to  be  attained  by 
the  light  of  nature  ; though  it  is  still  certain  that  men, 
even  with  the  light  and  law  of  nature,  have  some  notions 
of  virtue,  vice,  justice,  wrong,  good,  and  evil.'^  * That 
the  new  and  further  manifestations  of  the  Almighty, 
made  by  Revelation,  are  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
teaching  of  the  natural  world,  forms  indeed  one  subject 
of  the  profound  work  of  the  Anglican  Bishop  Butler; 
but  they  cannot  in  any  sense  be  gathered  from  nature, 
and  the  silence  of  nature  concerning  them  may  easily 
seduce  the  imagination,  though  it  has  no  force  to  per- 
suade the  reason,  to  revolt  from  doctrines  which  have 
not  been  authenticated  by  facts,  but  are  enforced  by 
authority.  In  a scientific  age,  then,  there  will  naturally 
be  a parade  of  what  is  called  Natural  Theology,  a wide- 
spread profession  of  the  Unitarian  creed,  an  impatience 
of  mystery,  and  a scepticism  about  miracles. 

And  to  all  this  must  be  added  the  ample  opportunity 
which  physical  science  gives  to  the  indulgence  of  those 
sentiments  of  beauty,  order,  and  congruity,  of  which  I 
have  said  so  much  as  the  ensigns  and  colours  (as  they 
may  be  called)  of  a civilized  age  in  its  warfare  against 
Catholicism. 

It  being  considered,  then,  that  Catholicism  differs  from 
physical  science,  in  drift,  in  method  of  proof,  and  in  sub- 
ject-matter, how  can  it  fail  to  meet  with  unfair  usage 
from  the  philosophers  of  any  Institution  in  which  there 
is  no  one  to  take  its  part  1 That  Physical  Science  itself 
will  be  ultimately  the  loser  by  such  ill  treatment  of  Theo- 
* De  Augm.,  § 28. 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  227 

logy,  I have  insisted  on  at  great  length  in  some  pre- 
ceding Discourses ; for  to  depress  unduly,  to  encroach 
upon  any  science,  and  much  more  on  an  important  one, 
is  to  do  an  injury  to  all.  However,  this  is  not  the  con- 
cern of  the  Church ; the  Church  has  no  call  to  watch 
over  and  protect  Science : but  towards  Theology  she  has 
a distinct  duty  : it  is  one  of  the  special  trusts  committed 
to  her  keeping.  Where  Theology  is,  there  she  must  be; 
and  if  a University  cannot  fulfil  its  name  and  office  with- 
out the  recognition  of  Revealed  Truth,  she  must  be  there 
to  see  that  it  is  a bond  fide  recognition,  sincerely  made 
and  consistently  acted  on. 


6. 

II.  And  if  the  interposition  of  the  Church  is  necessary 
in  the  Schools  of  Science,  still  more  imperatively  is  it 
demanded  in  the  other  main  constituent  portion  of 
the  subject-matter  of  Liberal  Education, — Literature. 
Literature  stands  related  to  Man  as  Science  stands  Jo 
f^alureTTit  Js  his  history.  Man  is  composed  of  body 
and  soul  ; he  things  and  he  acts  ; he  has  appetites, 
passions,  affections,  motives,  designs ; he  has  within  him 
the  lifelong  struggle  of  duty  with  inclination  ; he  has  an 
intellect  fertile  and  capacious  ; he  is  formed  for  society, 
and  society  multiplies  and  diversifies  in  endless  combina- 
tions his  personal  characteristics,  moral  and  intellectual. 
All  this  constitutes  his  life ; of  all  this  Literature  is  the 
expression;  so  that  Literature  is  Io  nian  in  somosorLwbat 
^autobiography  is  to  the  individual ; it  is  his  Life  and  Re- 
Moreover71K?TsTTns”s^tient,  intelligent,  creative, 
and  operative  being,  quite  independent  of  any  extraor- 
dinary aid  from  Heaven,  or  any  definite  religious  belief ; 
and  as  such^  as  he  is  in  himself,  does  Literature  represent 
him ; it  is  the  Life  and  Remains  of  the  natural  man, 


228 


Discourse  IX, 


innocent  or  guilty.  I do  not  mean  to  say  that  it  is 
impossible  in  its  very  notion  that  Literature  should  be 
tinctured  by  a religious  spirit ; Hebrew  Literature,  as  far 
as  it  can  be  called  Literature,  certainly  is  simply  theo- 
logical, and  has  a character  imprinted  on  it  which  is 
above  nature;  but  I am  speaking  of  what  is  to  be  ex- 
pected without  any  extraordinary  dispensation ; and  I 
say  that,  in  matter  of  fact,  as  Science  is  the  reflection  of 
Nature,  so  is  Litem^ie  also — the  one,  of  Nature  physical, 
the  other,  of  Nature  moral  and  social.  Circumstances, 
such  as  locality,  period,  language,  seem  to  make  little  or 
no  difference  in  the  character  of  Literature,  as  such ; 
on  the  whole,  all  Literatures  are  one ; they  are  the 
voices  of  the  natural  man. 

I wish  this  were  all  that  had  to  be  said  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  Literature;  but  while  Nature  physical  remains 
fixed  in  its  laws,  Nature  moral  and  social  has  a will  of 
its  own,  is  self-governed,  and  never  remains  any  long 
while  in  that  state  from  which  it  started  into  action. 
Man  will  never  continue  in  a mere  state  of  innocence  ; he 
is  sure  to  sin,  and  his  literature  will  be  the  expression  of 
his  sin,  and  this  whether  he  be  heathen  or  Christian. 
Christianity  has  thrown  gleams  of  light  on  him  and  his 
literature  ; but  as  it  has  not  converted  him,  but  only 
certain  choice  specimens  of  him,  so  it  has  not  changed 
the  characters  of  his  mind  or  of  his  history  ; his  literature 
is  either  what  it  was,  or  worse  than  what  it  was,  in  pro- 
portion as  there  has  been  an  abuse  of  knowledge  granted 
and  a rejection  of  truth.  On  the  whole,  then,  I think  it 
will  be  found,  and  ever  found,  as  a matter  of  course,  that 
Literature,  as  such,  no  matter  of  what  nation,  is  the 
science  or  history,  partly  and  at  best  of  the  natural  man, 
partly  of  man  in  rebellion. 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knoivledge.  ^29 


7 

Here  then,  I say,  you  are  involved  in  a difficulty 
greater  than  that  which  besets  the  cultivation  of  Science ; 
for,  if  Physical  Science  be  dangerous,  as  I have  said,  it  is 
dangerous,  because  it  necessarily  ignores  the  idea  of 
moral  evil ; but  Literature  is  open  to  the  more  grievous 
imputation  of  recognizing  and  understanding  it  too  well. 
Some  one  will  say  to  me  perhaps : Our  youth  shall 
not  be  corrupted.  We  will  dispense  with  all  general  or 
national  Literature  whatever,  if  it  be  so  exceptionable  ; 
we  will  have  a Christian  Literature  of  our  own,  as  pure, 
as  true,  as  the  Jewish.”  You  cannot  have  it : — I do  not 
say  you  cannot  form  a select  literature  for  the  young,  nay, 
even  for  the  middle  or  lower  classes  ; this  is  another 
matter  altogether:  I am  speaking  of  University  Educa- 
tion, which  implies  an  extended  range  of  reading,  which 
has  to  deal  with  standard  works  of  genius,  or  what  are 
called  the  classics  of  a language  : and  I say,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  if  Literature  is  to  be  made  a study  of 
human  nature,  you  cannot  have  a Christian  Literature. 
It  is  a contradiction  in  terms  to  attempt  a sinless  Litera- 
ture of  sinful  man.  You  may  gather  together  something 
very  great  and  high,  something  higher  than  any  Literature 
ever  was;  and  when  you  have  done  so,  you  will  find  that 
it  is  not  Literature  at  all.  You  will  have  simply  left  the 
delineation  of  man,  as  such,  and  have  substituted  for  it, 
as  far  as  you  have  had  any  thing  to  substitute,  that  of 
man,  as  he  is  or  might  be,  under  certain  special  advan- 
tages. Give  up  the  study  of  man,  as  such,  if  so  it  must 
be ; but  say  you  do  so.  Do  not  say  you  are  studying 
him,  his  history,  his  mind  and  his  heart,  when  you  are 
studying  something  else.  Man  is  a being  of  genius, 
passion,  intellect,  conscience,  power.  He  exercises  these 


Discourse  IX. 


^36 

various  gifts  in  various  ways,  in  great  deeds,  in  great 
thoughts,  in  heroic  acts,  in  hateful  crimes.  He  founds 
states,  he  fights  battles,  he  builds  cities,  he  ploughs  the 
forest,  he  subdues  the  elements,  he  rules  his  kind.  He 
creates  vast  ideas,  and  influences  many  generations. 
He  takes  a thousand  shapes,  and  undergoes  a thousand 
fortunes.  Literature  records  them  all  to  the  life, 

Quicquid  agunt  homines,  votum,  timor,  ira,  voluptas, 

Gaudia,  discursus. 

He  pours  out  his  fervid  soul  in  poetry;  he  sways  to  and 
fro,  he  soars,  he  dives,  in  his  restless  speculations ; his 
lips  drop  eloquence ; he  touches  the  canvas,  and  it 
glows  with  beauty ; he  sweeps  the  strings,  and  they 
thrill  with  an  ecstatic  meaning.  He  looks  back  into 
himself,  and  he  reads^his  own  thoughts,  and  notes  them 
down ; he  looks  out  into  the  universe,  and  tells  over  and 
celebrates  the  elements  and  principles  of  which  it  is  the 
product. 

Such  is  man : put  him  aside,  keep  him  before  you  ; 
but,  whatever  you  do,  do  not  take  him  for  what  he  is 
not,  for  something  more  divine  and  sacred,  for  man  re- 
generate. Nay,  beware  of  showing  God’s  grace  and  its 
work  at  such  disadvantage  as  to  make  the  few  whom  it 
has  thoroughly  influenced  compete  in  intellect  with  the 
vast  multitude  who  either  have  it  not,  or  use  it  ill.  The 
elect  are  few  to  choose  out  of,  and  the  world  is  inex- 
haustible. From  the  first,  Jabel  and  Tubalcain,  Nimrod 
^'the  stout  hunter,”  the  learning  of  the  Pharaohs,  and 
the  wisdom  of  the  East  country,  are  of  the  world.  Every 
now  and  then  they  are  rivalled  by  a Solomon  or  a Be- 
seleel,  but  the  habitat  of  natural  gifts  is  the  natural  man. 
The  Church  may  u.se  them,  she  cannot  at  her  will  origi- 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  231 

nate  them.  Not  till  the  whole  human  race  is  made  new 
will  its  literature  be  pure  and  true.  Possible  of  course 
it  is  in  idea,  tor  nature,  inspired  by  heavenly  grace,  to 
exhibit  itself  on  a large  scale,  in  an  originality  of  thought 
or  action,  even  far  beyond  what  the  world’s  literature 
has  recorded  or  exemplified  ; but,  if  you  would  in  fact 
have  a literature  of  saints,  first  of  all  have  a nation  of 
them. 

What  is  a clearer  proof  of  the  truth  of  all  this  than 
the  structure  of  the  Inspired  Word  itself  It  is  un- 
deniably not  the  reflection  or  picture  of  the  many,  but 
of  the  few ; it  is  no  picture  of  life,  but  an  anticipation  of 
death  and  judgment.  Human  literature  is  about  all 
things,  grave  or  gay,  painful  or  pleasant ; but  the 
Inspired  Word  views  them  only  in  one  aspect,  and  as 
they  tend  to  one  scope.  It  gives  us  little  insight  into 
the  fertile  developments  of  mind ; it  has  no  terms  in  its 
vocabulary  to  express  with  exactness  the  intellect  and 
its  separate  faculties  : it  knows  nothing  of  genius,  fancy, 
wit,  invention,  presence  of  mind,  resource.  It  does  not 
discourse  of  empire,  commerce,  enterprise,  learning, 
philosophy,  or  the  fine  arts.  Slightly  too  does  it  touch 
on  the  more  simple  and  innocent  courses  of  nature  and 
their  reward.  Little  does  it  say*  of  those  temporal 
blessings  which  rest  upon  our  worldly  occupations,  and 
make  them  easy ; of  the  blessings  which  we  derive  from 
the  sunshine  day  and  the  serene  night,  from  the  succes- 
sion of  the  seasons,  and  the  produce  of  the  earth.  Little 
about  our  recreations  and  our  daily  domestic  comforts  ; 
little  about  the  ordinary  occasions  of  festivity  and  mirth, 
which  sweeten  human  life ; and  nothing  at  all  about 
various  pursuits  or  amusements,  which  it  would  be  going 
too  much  into  detail  to  mention.  We  read  indeed  of  the 
* Vid.  the  Author’s  Parochial  Sermons,  vol.  i.  25. 


232 


Discourse  IX. 


feast  when  Isaac  was  weaned,  and  of  Jacob’s  courtship, 
and  of  the  religious  merry-makings  of  holy  Job  ; but 
exceptions,  such  as  these,  do  but  remind  us  what  might 
be  in  Scripture,  and  is  not.  If  then  by  Literature  is 
meant  the  manifestation  of  human  nature  in  human  lan- 
guage, you  will  seek  for  it  in  vain  except  in  the  world. 
Put  up  with  it,  as  it  is,  or  do  not  pretend  to  cultivate  it ; 
take  things  as  they  are,  not  as  you  could  wish  them. 

8. 

Nay,  I am  obliged  to  go  further  still ; even  if  we  could, 
still  we  should  be  shrinking  from  our  plain  duty.  Gentle- 
men, did  we  leave  out  Literature  from  Education.  For 
why  do  we  educate,  except  to  prepare  for  the  world  : 
Why  do  we  cultivate  the  intellect  of  the  many  beyond 
the  first  elements  of  knowledge,  except  for  this  world  ? 
Will  it  be  much  matter  in  the  world  to  come  whether 
our  bodily  health  or  whether  our  intellectual  strength 
was  more  or  less,  except  of  course  as  this  world  is  in 
all  its  circumstances  a trial  for  the  next  If  then  a 
University  is  a direct  preparation  for  this  world,  let  it 
be  what  it  professes.  It  is  not  a Convent,  it  is  not  a 
Seminary;  it  is  a place  to  fit  men  of  the  world  for  the 
world.  We  cannot  possibly  keep  them  from  plunging 
into  the  world,  with  all  its  ways  and  principles  and 
maxims,  when  their  time  comes;  but  we  can  prepare 
them  against  what  is  inevitable ; and  it  is  not  rhe  way 
to  learn  to  swim  in  troubled  waters,  never  to  have 
gone  into  them.  Proscribe  (I  do  not  merely  say  parti- 
cular authors,  particular  works,  particular  passages)  but 
Secular  Literature  as  such ; cut  out  from  your  class 
books  all  broad  manifestations  of  the  natural  man  ; and 
those  manifestations  are  waiting  for  your  pupil’s  benefit 
at  the  very  doors  of  your  lecture  room  in  living  and 


Duties  oj  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge,  233 

breathing  substance.  They  will  meet  him  there  in  all 
the  charm  of  novelty,  and  all  the  fascination  of  genius 
or  of  amiableness.  To-day  a pupil,  to-morrow  a mem- 
ber of  the  great  world  : to-day  confined  to  the  Lives 
of  the  Saints,  to-morrow  thrown  upon  Babel ; — thrown 
on  Babel,  without  the  honest  indulgence  of  wit  and 
humour  and  imagination  having  ever  been  permitted  to 
him,  without  any  fastidiousness  of  taste  wrought  into 
him,  without  any  rule  given  him  for  discriminating  the 
precious  from  the  vile,’'  beauty  from  sin,  the  truth  from 
the  sophistry  of  nature,  what  is  innocent  from  what  is 
poison.  You  have  refused  him  the  masters  of  human 
thought,  who  would  in  some  sense  have  educated  him, 
because  of  their  incidental  corruption : you  have  shut 
up  from  him  those  whose  thoughts  strike  home  to  our 
hearts,  whose  words  are  proverbs,  whose  names  are  in- 
digenous to  all  the  world,  who  are  the  standard  of  their 
mother  tongue,  and  the  pride  and  boast  of  their  country- 
men, Homer,  Ariosto,  Cervantes,  Shakespeare,  because 
the  old  Adam  smelt  rank  in  them  ; and  for  what  have 
you  reserved  him  You  have  given  him  a liberty 
unto  ’’  the  multitudinous  blasphemy  of  his  day ; you 
have  made  him  free  of  its  newspapers,  its  reviews,  its 
magazines,  its  novels,  its  controversial  pamphlets,  of  its 
Parliamentary  debates,  its  law  proceedings,  its  platform 
speeches,  its  songs,  its  drama,  its  theatre,  of  its  envelop- 
ing, stifling  atmosphere  of  death.  You  have  succeeded 
but  in  this, — in  making  the  world  his  University. 

Difficult  then  as  the  question  may  be,  and  much  as  it 
may  try  the  judgments  and  even  divide  the  opinions  of 
zealous  and  religious  Catholics,  I cannot  feel  any  doubt 
myself.  Gentlemen,  that  the  Church’s  true  policy  is  not 
to  aim  at  the  exclusion  of  Literature  from  Secular 
Schools,  but  at  her  own  admission  into  them.  Let  her  do 


234 


Discourse  IX. 


for  Literature  in  one  way  what  she  does  for  Science  in 
another;  each  has  its  imperfection,  and  she  has  her  remedy 
for  each.  She  fears  no  knowledge,  but  she  purifies  all ; 
she  represses  no  element  of  our  nature,  but  cultivates 
the  whole.  Science  is  grave,  methodical,  logical ; with 
Science  then  she  argues,  and  opposes  reason  to  reason. 
Literature  does  not  argue,  but  declaims  and  insinuates  ; 
it  is  multiform  and  versatile  : it  persuades  instead  of 
convincing,  it  seduces,  it  carries  captive;  it  appeals  to  the 
sense  of  honour,  or  to  the  imagination,  or  to  the  stimu- 
lus of  curiosity ; it  makes  its  way  by  means  of  gaiety, 
satire,  romance,  the  beautiful,  the  pleasurable.  Is  it 
wonderful  that  with  an  agent  like  this  the  Church  should 
claim  to  deal  with  a vigour  corresponding  to  its  restless- 
ness, to  interfere  in  its  proceedings  with  a higher  hand, 
and  to  wield  an  authority  in  the  choice  of  its  studies  and 
of  its  books  which  would  be  tyrannical,  if  reason  and 
fact  were  the  only  instruments  of  its  conclusions  } But, 
any  how,  her  principle  is  one  and  the  same  throughout : 
not  to  prohibit  truth  of  any  kind,  but  to  see  that  no  doc- 
trines pass  under  the  name  of  Truth  but  those  which 
claim  it  rightfully. 


9- 

Such  at  least  is  the  lesson  which  I am  taught  by  all 
the  thought  which  I have  been  able  to  bestow  upon  the 
subject  ; such  is  the  lesson  which  I have  gained  from  the 
history  of  my  own  special  Father  and  Patron,  St.  Philip 
Neri.  He  lived  in  an  age  as  traitorous  to  the  interests 
of  Catholicism  as  any  that  preceded  it,  or  can  follow  it. 
He  lived  at  a time  when  pride  mounted  high,  and  the 
senses  held  rule ; a time  when  kings  and  nobles  never 
had  more  of  state  and  homage,  and  never  less  of  per- 
sonal responsibility  and  peril ; when  medieval  winter  was 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge,  233 

receding,  and  the  summer  sun  of  civilization  was  bring- 
ing into  leaf  and  flower  a thousand  forms  of  luxurious 
enjoyment ; when  a new  world  of  thought  and  beauty 
had  opened  upon  the  human  mind,  in  the  discovery  of 
the  treasures  of  classic  literature  and  art.  He  saw  the 
great  and  the  gifted,  dazzled  by  the  Enchantress,  and 
drinking  in  the  magic  of  her  song ; he  saw  the  high  and 
the  wise,  the  student  and  the  artist,  painting,  and  poetry 
and  sculpture,  and  music,  and  architecture,  drawn  within 
her  range,  and  circling  round  the  abyss  : he  saw  heathen 
forms  mounting  thence,  and  forming  in  the  thick  air : — 
all  this  he  saw,  and  he  perceived  that  the  mischief  was  to 
be  met,  not  with  argument,  not  with  science,  not  with 
protests  and  warnings,  not  by  the  recluse  or  the  preacher, 
but  by  means  of  the  great  counter-fascination  of  purity 
and  truth.  He  was  raised  up  to  do  a work  almost  pecu- 
liar in  the  Church, — not  to  be  a Jerome  Savonarola, 
though  Philip  had  a true  devotion  towards  him  and  a 
tender  memory  of  his  Florentine  house  ; not  to  be  a 
St.  Charles,  though  in  his  beaming  countenance  Philip 
had  recognized  the  aureole  of  a saint ; not  to  be  a St. 
Ignatius,  wrestling  with  the  foe,  though  Philip  was  termed 
the  Society’s  bell  of  call,  so  many  subjects  did  he  send 
to  it ; not  to  be  a St.  Francis  Xavier,  though  Philip 
had  longed  to  shed  his  blood  for  Christ  in  India  with  him  ; 
not  to  be  a St.  Caietan,  or  hunter,  of  souls,  for  Philip 
preferred,  as  he  expressed  it,  tranquilly  to  cast  in  his 
net  to  gain  them  ; he  preferred  to  yield  to  the  stream, 
and  direct  the  current,  which  he  could  not  stop,  of 
science,  literature,  art,  and  fashion,  and  to  sweeten  and 
to  sanctify  what  God  had  made  very  good  and  man  had 
spoilt. 

And  so  he  contemplated  as  the  idea  of  his  mission, 
not  the  propagation  of  the  faith,  nor  the  exposition  of 


Discours-e  IX. 


236 

doctrine,  nor  the  catechetical  schools ; whatever  was  exact 
and  systematic  pleased  him  not ; he  put  from  him  mo- 
nastic rule  and  authoritative  speech,  as  David  refused  the 
armour  of  his  king.  No;  he  would  be  but  an  ordinary 
individual  priest  as  others : and  his  weapons  should  be  but 
unaffected  humility  and  unpretending  love.  All  He  did 
was  to  be  done  by  the  light,  and  fervour,  and  convincing 
eloquence  of  his  personal  character  and  his  easy  conver- 
sation. He  came  to  the  Eternal  City  and  he  sat  himself 
down  there,  and  his  home  and  his  family  gradually  grew 
up  around  him,  by  the  spontaneous  accession  of  materials 
from  without.  He  did  not  so  much  seek  his  own  as 
draw  them  to  him.  He  sat  in  his  small  room,  and  they 
in  their  gay  worldly  dresses,  the  rich  and  the  wellborn, 
as  well  as  the  simple  and  the  illiterate,  crowded  into  it 
In  the  mid-heats  of  summer,  in  the  frosts  of  winter,  still 
was  he  in  that  low  and  narrow  cell  at  San  Girolamo, 
reading  the  hearts  of  those  who  came  to  him,  and  curing 
their  souls’  maladies  by  the  very  touch  of  his  hand.  It 
was  a vision  of  the  Magi  worshipping  the  infant  Saviour, 
so  pure  and  innocent,  so  sweet  and  beautiful  was  he  ; 
and  so  loyal  and  so  dear  to  the  gracious  Virgin  Mother. 
And  they  who  came  remained  gazing  and  listening,  till 
at  length,  first  one  and  then  another  threw  off  their 
bravery,  and  took  his  poor  cassock  and  girdle  instead  : 
or,  if  they  kept  it,  it  was  to  put  haircloth  under  it,  or  to 
take  on  them  a rule  of  life,  while  to  the  world  they  looked 
as  before. 

In  the  words  of  his  biographer,  he  was  all  things  to 
all  men.  He  suited  himself  to  noble  and  ignoble,  young 
and  old,  subjects  and  prelates,  learned  and  ignorant ; 
and  received  those  who  were  strangers  to  him  with 
singular  benignity,  and  embraced  them  with  as  much 
love  and  charity  as  if  he  had  been  a long  while  expect- 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge,  lyj 

mg  them.  When  he  was  called  upon  to  be  merry  he 
was  so  ; if  there  was  a demand  upon  his  sympathy  he 
was  equally  ready.  He  gave  the  same  welcome  to  all: 
caressing  the  poor  equally  with  the  rich,  and  wearying 
himself  to  assist  all  to  the  utmost  limits  of  his  power. 
In  consequence  of  his  being  so  accessible  and  willing  to 
receive  all  comers,  many  went  to  him  every  day,  and 
some  continued  for  the  space  of  thirty,  nay  forty  years, 
to  visit  him  very  often  both  morning  and  evening,  so 
that  his  room  went  by  the  agreeable  nickname  of  the 
Home  of  Christian  mirth.  Nay,  people  came  to  him, 
not  only  from  all  parts  of  Italy,  but  from  France,  Spain, 
Germany,  and  all  Christendom  ; and  even  the  infidels 
and  Jews,  who  had  ever  any  communication  with  him, 
revered  him  as  a holy  man.”  ^ The  first  families  of 
Rome,  the  Massimi,  the  Aldobrandini,  the  Colonnas,  the 
Altieri,  the  Vitelleschi,  were  his  friends  and  his  penitents. 
Nobles  of  Poland,  Grandees  of  Spain,  Knights  of  Malta, 
could  not  leave  Rome  without  coming  to  him.  Car- 
dinals, Archbishops,  and  Bishops  were  his  intimates; 
Federigo  Borromeo  haunted  his  room  and  got  the  name 
of  Father  Philip’s  soul.”  The  Cardinal-Archbishops  of 
Verona  and  Bologna  wrote  books  in  his  honour.  Pope 
Pius  the  Fourth  died  in  his  arms.  Lawyers,  painters, 
musicians,  physicians,  it  was  the  same  too  with  them. 
Baronius,  Zazzara,  and  Ricci,  left  the  law  at  his  bid- 
ding, and  joined  his  congregation,  to  do  its  work,  to 
write  the  annals  of  the  Church,  and  to  die  in  the  odour 
of  sanctity.  Palestrina  had  Father  Philip’s  ministra- 
tions in  his  last  moments.  Animuccia  hung  about  him 
during  life,  sent  him  a message  after  death,  and  was 
conducted  by  him  through  Purgatory  to  Heaven.  And 
who  was  he,  I say,  all  the  while,  but  an  humble  priest, 
* Bacci,  vol.  i.,  p.  192,  ii.,  p.  98. 


238 


Discourse  IX. 


a stranger  in  Rome,  with  no  distinction  of  family  or 
letters,  no  claim  of  station  or  of  office,  great  simply  in 
the  attraction  with  which  a Divine  Power  had  gifted 
him  ? and  yet  thus  humble,  thus  unennobled,  thus  empty- 
handed,  he  has  achieved  the  glorious  title  of  Apostle  of 
Rome. 


10. 

Well  were  it  for  his  clients  and  children,  Gentlemen,  if 
they  could  promise  themselves  the  very  shadow  of  his 
special  power,  or  could  hope  to  do  a miserable  fraction 
of  the  sort  of  work  in  which  he  was  pre-eminently 
skilled.  But  so  far  at  least  they  may  attempt, — to  take 
his  position,  and  to  use  his  method,  and  to  cultivate  the 
arts  of  which  he  was  so  bright  a pattern.  For  me,  if  it  be 
God’s  blessed  will  that  in  the  years  now  coming  I am  to 
have  a share  in  the  great  undertaking,  which  has  been 
the  occasion  and  the  subject  of  these  Discourses,  so  far 
I can  say  for  certain  that,  whether  or  not  I can  do  any 
thing  at  all  in  St.  Philip’s  way,  at  least  I can  do  nothing 
in  any  other.  Neither  by  my  habits  of  life,  nor  by 
vigour  of  age,  am  I fitted  for  the  task  of  authority,  or 
of  rule,  or  of  initiation.  I do  but  aspire,  if  strength  is 
given  me,  to  be  your  minister  in  a work  which  must  em- 
ploy younger  minds  and  stronger  lives  than  mine.  I am 
but  fit  to  bear  my  witness,  to  proffer  my  suggestions,  to 
express  my  sentiments,  as  has  in  fact  been  my  occupa- 
tion in  these  discussions ; to  throw  such  light  upon 
general  questions,  upon  the  choice  of  objects,  upon  the 
import  of  principles,  upon  the  tendency  of  measures,  as 
past  reflection  and  experience  enable  me  to  contribute. 
I shall  have  to  make  appeals  to  your  consideration,  your 
friendliness,  your  confidence,  of  which  I have  had  so 
many  instances,  on  which  I so  tranquilly  repose;  and 


Duties  of  the  Church  Towards  Knowledge.  239 

after  all,  neither  you  nor  I must  ever  be  surprised,  should 
it  so  happen  that  the  Hand  of  Him,  with  whom  are  the 
springs  of  life  and  death,  weighs  heavy  on  me,  and 
makes  me  unequal  to  anticipations  in  which  you  have 
been  too  kind,  and  to  hopes  in  which  I may  have  been 
too  sanguine. 


II. 

UNIVERSITY  SUBJECTS, 

DISCUSSED  IN  OCCASIONAL  LECTURES  AND  EvSSAYS. 


i6 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 
WILLIAM  MONSELL,  M.P.,  ETC.,  etc.^ 

My  dear  Monsell, 

I seem  to  have  some  claim  for  asking  leave  of  you  to 
prefix  your  name  to  the  following  small  Volume,  since  it 
is  a memorial  of  work  done  in  a country  which  you  so 
dearly  love,  and  in  behalf  of  an  undertaking  in  which 
you  feel  so  deep  an  interest. 

Nor  do  I venture  on  the  step  without  some  hope  that 
it  is  worthy  of  your  acceptance,  at  least  on  account  of 
those  portions  of  it  which  have  already  received  the 
approbation  of  the  learned  men  to  whom  they  were 
addressed,  and  which  have  been  printed  at  their  desire. 

But,  even  though  there  were  nothing  to  recommend  it 
except  that  it  came  from  me,  I know  well  that  you 
would  kindly  welcome  it  as  a token  of  the  truth  and 
constancy  with  which  I am, 

My  dear  Monsell, 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

[November,  1858.]  JOHN  H.  NEWMAN. 


[♦Now  Lord  Emly.] 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


IT  has  been  the  fortune  of  the  author  through  life, 
that  the  Volumes  which  he  has  published  have  grown 
for  the  most  part  out  of  the  duties  which  lay  upon  him, 
or  out  of  the  circumstances  of  the  moment.  Rarely  has 
he  been  master  of  his  own  studies. 

The  present  collection  of  Lectures  and  Essays,  written 
by  him  while  Rector  of  the  Catholic  University  of  Ire- 
land, is  certainly  not  an  exception  to  this  remark. 
Rather,  it  requires  the  above  consideration  to  be  kept  in 
view,  as  an  apology  for  the  want  of  keeping  which  is 
apparent  between  its  separate  portions,  some  of  them 
being  written  for  public  delivery,  others  with  the 
privileged  freedom  of  anonymous  compositions. 

However,  whatever  be  the  inconvenience  which  such 
varieties  in  tone  and  character  may  involve,  the  author 
cannot  affect  any  compunction  for  having  pursued  the 
illustration  of  one  and  the  same  important  subject-matter 
with  which  he  had  been  put  in  charge,  by  such  methods, 
graver  or  lighter,  so  that  they  were  lawful,  as  successively 
came  to  his  hand. 


November^  1858. 


UNIVERSITY  SUBJECTS, 


PAGE 

I-  Christianity  and  Letters,  A Lecture  read  in  the  School 

of  Philosophy  and  Letters,  November,  1854  - - 249 


II.  Literature*  A Lecture  read  in  the  School  of  Philosophy 


and  Letters,  November,  1858 

- 

- 

- 268 

[II.  Catholic  Literature  in  the  English 

Tongue, 

1854-8 - 

- 

• 295 

§,  I.  in  its  relation  to  Religious  Literature 

- 

- 296 

§.  2.  to  Science 

- 

- 299 

§.  3.  to  Classical  Literature  - 

- 

- 307 

§.  4.  to  Literature  of  the  Day 

- 320 

IV.  Elementary  Studies,  1854-6  : — 

- 331 

§.  I.  Grammar  - . ^ 

- 334 

§.  2.  Composition 

- 

- 348 

§.  3.  Latin  Writing  - . - 

- 

- 362 

§.  4.  General  Religious  Knowledge  • 

- 

- 372 

V.  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day,  1854.*- 

- 381 

§.  I.  Its  sentiments  - . - 

- 

- 381 

§.  2.  Its  policy 

* 

- 392 

VI.  University  Preaching,  1855 

• 405 

VII.  Christianity  and  Physical  Science.  A Lecture  read 

in  the  School  of  Medicine,  November,  1855  - ’ 428 


VIII.  Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation.  A Lecture 

for  the  School  of  Science,  1855  - - . - 456 

IX.  Discipline  of  Mind.  An  Address  delivered  to  the  Evening 

Classes,  November,  1858  ....  480 

X.  Christianity  and  Medical  Science.  An  Address  delivered 

to  the  Students  of  Medicine,  November,  1858  - - 505 


/ 


249 


I. 

CHRISTIANITY  AND  LETTERS. 

A LECTURE  IN  THE  SCHOOL  OF  PFIILOSOPHY  AND 
LETTERS. 


I. 

IT  seems  but  natural,  Gentlemen,  now  that  we  are 
opening  the  School  of  Philosophy  and  Letters,  or, 
as  it  was  formerly  called,  of  Arts,  in  this  new  University, 
that  we  should  direct  our  attention  to  the  question,  what 
are  the  subjects  generally  included  under  that  name, 
and  what  place  they  hold,  and  how  they  come  to  hold 
that  place,  in  a University,  and  in  the  education  which 
a University  provides.  This  would  be  natural  on 
such  an  occasion,  even  though  the  Faculty  of  Arts  held 
but  a secondary  place  in  the  academical  system  ; but 
it  seems  to  be  even  imperative  on  us,  considering  that 
the  studies  which  that  Faculty  embraces  are  almost  the 
direct  subject-matter  and  the  staple  of  the  mental  exer- 
cises proper  to  a University. 

It  is  indeed  not  a little  remarkable  that,  in  spite  of 
the  special  historical  connexion  of  University  Institutions 
with  the  Sciences  of  Theology,  Law,  and  Medicine,  a 
University,  after  all,  should  be  formally  based  (as  it  really 
is),  and  should  emphatically  live  in.  the  Faculty  of  Arts  ; 
but  such  is  the  deliberate  decision  of  those  who  h^ve 


250  Christianity  and  Letters. 

most  deeply  and  impartially  considered  the  subject* 
Arts  existed  before  other  Faculties  ; the  Masters  of  Arts 
were  the  ruling  and  directing  body ; the  success  and 
popularity  of  the  Faculties  of  Law  and  Medicine  were 
considered  to  be  in  no  slight  measure  an  encroachment 
and  a usurpation,  and  were  met  with  jealousy  and 
resistance.  When  Colleges  arose  and  became  the 
medium  and  instrument  of  University  action,  they  did 
but  confirm  the  ascendency  of  the  Faculty  of  Arts  ; and 
thus,  even  down  to  this  day,  in  those  academical  cor- 
porations which  have  more  than  others  retained  the 
traces  of  their  medieval  origin, — I mean  the  Universities 
of  Oxford  and  Cambridge, — we  hear  little  of  Theology, 
Medicine,  or  Law,  and  almost  exclusively  of  Arts. 

Now,  considering  the  reasonable  association,  to  which  I 
have  already  referred,  which  exists  in  our  minds  between 
Universities  and  the  three  learned  professions,  here  is  a 
phenomenon  which  has  to  be  contemplated  for  its  own 
sake  and  accounted  for,  as  well  as  a circumstance  en- 
hancing the  significance  and  importance  of  the  act  in 
which  we  have  been  for  some  weeks  engaged ; and  I 
consider  that  I shall  not  be  employing  our  time  unprofit- 
ably , if  I am  able  to  make  a suggestion,  which,  while 
it  illustrates  the  fact,  is  able  to  explain  the  difficulty. 

2. 

Here  I must  go  back,  Gentlemen,  a very  great  way, 
and  ask  you  to  review  the  course  of  Civilization  since 
the  beginning  of  history.  When  we  survey  the  stream 
of  human  affairs  for  the  last  three  thousand  years,  we 
find  it  to  run  thus : — At  first  sight  there  is  so  much 
fluctuation,  agitation,  ebbing  and  flowing,  that  we  may 
despair  to  discern  any  law  in  its  movements,  taking  the 
♦ Vid  Hub^r, 


Christianity  and  LettefS.  25  1 

earth  as  its  bed,  and  mankind  as  its  contents ; but,  on 
looking  more  closely  and  attentively,  we  shall  discern,  in 
spite  of  the  heterogeneous  materials  and  the  various  his- 
tories and  fortunes  which  are  found  in  the  race  of  man 
during  the  long  period  I have  mentioned,  a certain  for- 
mation amid  the  chaos, — one  and  one  only, — and  ex- 
tending, though  not  over  the  whole  earth,  yet  through  a 
very  considerable  portion  of  it.  Man  is  a social  being 
and  can  hardly  exist  without  society,  and  in  matter  of 
fact  societies  have  ever  existed  all  over  the  habitable 
earth.  The  greater  part  of  these  associations  have  been 
political  or  religious,  and  have  been  comparatively 
limited  in  extent,  and  temporary.  They  have  been 
formed  and  dissolved  by  the  force  of  accidents  or  by 
inevitable  circumstances  ; and,  when  we  have  enumerated 
them  one  by  one,  we  have  made  of  them  all  that  can  be 
made.  But  there  is  one  remarkable  association  which 
attracts  the  attention  of  the  philosopher,  not  political 
nor  religious,  or  at  least  only  partially  and  not  essentially 
such,  which  began  in  the  earliest  times  and  grew  with 
each  succeeding  age,  till  it  reached  its  complete  develop- 
ment, and  then  continued  on,  vigorous  and  unwearied, 
and  which  still  remains  as  definite  and  as  firm  as  ever  it 
was.  Its  bond  is  a common  civilization  ; and,  though 
there  are  other  civilizations  in  the  world,  as  there  are 
other  societies,  yet  this  civilization,  together  with  the 
society  which  is  its  creation  and  its  home,  is  so  distinc- 
tive and  luminous  in  its  character,  so  imperial  in  its  ex- 
tent, so  imposing  in  its  duration,  and  so  utterly  without 
rival  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  that  the  association  may 
fitly  assume  to  itself  the  title  of  “ Human  Society,'’  and 
its  civilization  the  abstract  term  Civilization." 

There  are  indeed  great  outlying  portions  of  mankind 
which  are  not,  perhaps  never  have  been,  included  in  this 


252  Christian ity  a7id  L etters. 

Human  Society ; still  they  are  outlying  portions  and 
nothing  else,  fragmentary,  unsociable,  solitary,  and  un- 
meaning, protesting  and  revolting  against  the  grand 
central  formation  of  which  I am  speaking,  but  not  unit- 
ing with  each  other  into  a second  whole.  I am  not  deny- 
ing of  course  the  civilization  of  the  Chinese,  for  instance, 
though  it  be  not  our  civilization ; but  it  is  a huge,  sta- 
tionary, unattractive,  morose  civilization.  Nor  do  I deny 
a civilization  to  the  Hindoos,  nor  to  the  ancient  Mexicans, 
nor  to  the  Saracens,  nor  (in  a certain  sense)  to  the  Turks  ; 
but  each  of  these  races  has  its  own  civilization,  as  sepa- 
rate from  one  another  as  from  ours.  I do  not  see  how 
they  can  be  all  brought  under  one  idea.  Each  stands 
by  itself,  as  if  the  other  were  not ; each  is  local ; many  of 
them  are  temporary  ; none  of  them  will  bear  a compari- 
son with  the  Society  and  the  Civilization  which  I have 
described  as  alone  having  a claim  to  those  names,  and  on 
which  I am  going  to  dwell. 

Gentlemen,  let  me  here  observe  that  I am  not  entering 
upon  the  question  of  races,  or  upon  their  history.  I have 
nothing  to  do  with  ethnology.  I take  things  as  I find 
them  on  the  surface  of  history,  and  am  but  classing  phe- 
nomena. Looking,  then,  at  the  countries  which  surround 
the  Mediterranean  Sea  as  a whole,  I see  them  to  be,  from 
time  immemorial,  the  seat  of  an  association  of  intellect 
and  mind,  such  as  to  deserve  to  be  called  the  Intellect 
and  the  Mind  of  the  Human  Kind.  Starting  as  it  does 
and  advancing  from  certain  centres,  till  their  respective 
influences  intersect  and  conflict,  and  then  at  length  inter- 
mingle and  combine,  a common  Thought  has  been  gene- 
rated, and  a common  Civilization  defined  and  established. 
Egypt  is  one  such  starting  point,  Syria  another,  Greece 
a third,  Italy  a fourth,  and  North  Africa  a fifth, — after- 
wards France  and  Spain.  As  time  goes  on,  and  as  coloni- 


Christianity  and  Letters.  ^53 

zation  and  conquest  work  their  changes,  we  see  a great 
association  of  nations  formed,  of  which  the  Roman 
empire  is  the  maturity  and  the  most  intelligible  expres- 
sion ; an  association,  however,  not  political,  but  mental, 
based  on  the  same  intellectual  ideas,  and  advancing  by 
common  intellectual  methods.  And  this  association  or 
social  commonwealth,  with  whatever  reverses,  changes, 
and  momentary  dissolutions,  continues  down  to  this  day; 
not,  indeed,  precisely  on  the  same  territory,  but  with 
such  only  partial  and  local  disturbances,  and  on  the 
other  hand,  with  so  combined  and  harmonious  a move- 
ment, and  such  a visible  continuity,  that  it  would  be 
utterly  unreasonable  to  deny  that  it  is  throughout  all 
that  interval  but  one  and  the  same. 

In  its  earliest  age  it  included  far  more  of  the  eastern 
world  than  it  has  since ; in  these  later  times  it  has  taken 
into  its  compass  a new  hemisphere  ; in  the  middle  ages 
it  lost  Africa,  Egypt,  and  Syria,  and  extended  itself  to 
Germany,  Scandinavia,  and  the  British  Isles.  At  one 
time  its  territory  was  flooded  by  strange  and  barbarous 
races,  but  the  existing  civilization  was  vigorous  enough 
to  vivify  what  threatened  to  stifle  it,  and  to  assimilate  to 
the  old  social  forms  what  came  to  expel  them  ; and  thus 
the  civilization  of  modern  times  remains  what  it  was  of 
old,  not  Chinese,  or  Hindoo,  or  Mexican,  or  Saracenic, 
or  of  any  new  description  hitherto  unknown,  but  the 
lineal  descendant,  or  rather  the  continuation,  mutatis 
mutandis,  of  the  civilization  which  began  in  Palestine 
and  Greece. 

Considering,  then,  the  characteristics  of  this  great  civi- 
lized Society,  which  I have  already  insisted  on,  I think 
it  has  a claim  to  be  considered  as  the  representative 
Society  and  Civilization  of  the  human  race,  as  its  perfect 
result  and  limit,  in  fact ; — those  portions  of  the  race  which 


^54  Christianity  and  Letters. 

do  not  coalesce  with  it  being  left  to  stand  by  themselves 
as  anomalies,  unaccountable  indeed,  but  for  that  very 
reason  not  interfering  with  what  on  the  contrary  has 
been  turned  to  account  and  has  grown  into  a whole.  I 
call  then  this  commonwealth  pre-eminently  and  emphati- 
cally Human  Society,  and  its  intellect  the  Human  Mind, 
and  its  decisions  the  sense  of  mankind,  and  its  disciplined 
and  cultivated  state  Civilization  in  the  abstract,  and  the 
territory  on  which  it  lies  the  orbis  terrarumy  or  the  World. 
For,  unless  the  illustration  be  fanciful,  the  object  which 
I am  contemplating  is  like  the  impression  of  a seal  upon 
the  wax ; which  rounds  off  and  gives  form  to  the  greater 
portion  of  the  soft  material,  and  presents  something  de- 
finite to  the  eye,  and  preoccupies  the  space  against  any 
second  figure,  so  that  we  overlook  and  leave  out  of  our 
thoughts  the  jagged  outline  or  unmeaning  lumps  outside 
of  it,  intent  upon  the  harmonious  circle  which  fills  the 
imagination  within  it. 


3. 

Now,  before  going  on  to  speak  of  the  education,  and 
the  standards  of  education,  which  the  Civilized  World,  as 
I may  now  call  it,  has  enjoined  and  requires,  I wish  to 
draw  your  attention.  Gentlemen,  to  the  circumstance 
that  this  same  orbis  terrarmny  which  has  been  the  seat  of 
Civilization,  will  be  found,  on  the  whole,  to  be  the  seat 
also  of  that  supernatural  society  and  system  which  our 
Maker  has  given  us  directly  from  Himself,  the  Christian 
Polity.  The  natural  and  divine  associations  are  not 
indeed  exactly  coincident,  nor  ever  have  been.  As  the 
territory  of  Civilization  has  varied  with  itself  in  different 
ages,  while  on  the  whole  it  has  been  the  same,  so,  in  like 
manner,  Christianity  has  fallen  partly  outside  Civilization, 
and  Civilization  partly  outside  Christianity ; but,  on  the 


Christianity  and  Letters,  255 

whole,  the  two  have  occupied  one  and  the  same  orbis  ter- 
rarum.  Often  indeed  they  have  even  moved  pari  passu, 
and  at  all  times  there  has  been  found  the  most  intimate 
connexion  between  them.  Christianity  waited  till  the 
orbis  terrarum  attained  its  most  perfect  form  before  it 
appeared ; and  it  soon  coalesced,  and  has  ever  since  co- 
operated, and  often  seemed  identical,  with  the  Civiliza- 
tion which  is  its  companion. 

There  are  certain  analogies,  too,  which  hold  between 
Civilization  and  Christianity.  As  Civilization  does  not 
cover  the  whole  earth,  neither  does  Christianity;  but 
there  is  nothing  else  like  the  one,  and  nothing  else  like 
the  other.  Each  is  the  only  thing  of  its  kind.  Again, 
there  are,  as  I have  already  said,  large  outlying  portions 
of  the  world  in  a certain  sense  cultivated  and  educated^ 
which,  if  they  could  exist  together  in  one,  would  go  far 
to  constitute  a second  orbis  terrarum,  the  home  of  a 
second  distinct  civilization ; but  every  one  of  these  is 
civilized  on  its  own  principle  and  idea,  or  at  least  they 
are  separated  from  each  other,  and  have  not  run  together, 
while  the  Civilization  and  Society  which  I have  been 
describing  is  one  organized  whole.  And,  in  like  manner, 
Christianity  coalesces  into  one  vast  body,  based  upon 
common  ideas  ; yet  there  are  large  outlying  organizations 
of  religion  independent  of  each  other  and  of  it.  More- 
over, Christianity,  as  is  the  case  in  the  parallel  instance  of 
Civilization,  continues  on  in  the  world  without  interrup- 
tion from  the  date  of  its  rise,  while  other  religious  bodies, 
huge,  local,  and  isolated,  are  rising  and  falling,  or  are 
helplessly  stationary,  from  age  to  age,  on  all  sides  of  it. 

There  is  another  remarkable  analogy  between  Chris- 
tianity and  Civilization,  and  the  mention  of  it  will 
introduce  my  proper  subject,  to  which  what  I have 
hitherto  said  i§  merely  a preparation.  We  know  that 


/ 


256  Christianity  and  Letters. 

Christianity  is  built  upon  definite  ideas,  principles, 
doctrines,  and  writings,  which  were  given  at  the  time  of 
its  first  introduction,  and  have  never  been  superseded, 
and  admit  of  no  addition.  I am  not  going  to  parallel 
any  thing  which  is  the  work  of  man,  and  in  the  natural 
order,  with  what  is  from  heaven,  and  in  consequence 
infallible,  and  irreversible,  and  obligatory ; but,  after 
making  this  reserve,  lest  I should  possibly  be  misunder- 
stood, still  I would  remark  that,  in  matter  of  fact,  look- 
ing at  the  state  of  the  case  historically.  Civilization  too 
has  its  common  principles,  and  views,  and  teaching,  and 
especially  its  books,  which  have  more  or  less  been  given 
from  the  earliest  times,  and  are,  in  fact,  in  equal  esteem 
and  respect,  in  equal  use  now,  as  they  were  when  they 
were  received  in  the  beginning.  In  a word,  the  Classics, 
and  the  subjects  of  thought  and  the  studies  to  which 
they  give  rise,  or,  to  use  the  term  most  to  our  present 
purpose,  the  Arts,  have  ever,  on  the  whole,  been  the 
instruments  of  education  which  the  civilized  orbis  ter- 
rartim  has  adopted ; just  as  inspired  works,  and  the 
lives  of  saints,  and  the  articles  of  faith,  and  the  catechism, 
have  ever  been  the  instrument  of  education  in  the  case  of 
Christianity.  And  this  consideration,  you  see.  Gentle- 
men (to  drop  down  at  once  upon  the  subject  proper  to 
the  occasion  which  has  brought  us  together),  invests 
the  opening  of  the  School  in  Arts  with  a solemnity  and 
moment  of  a peculiar  kind,  for  we  are  but  reiterating  an 
old  tradition,  and  carrying  on  those  august  methods  of 
enlarging  the  mind,  and  cultivating  the  intellect,  and 
refining  the  feelings,  in  which  the  process  of  Civilization 
has  ever  consisted. 


4- 

In  the  country  which  has  been  the  fountain  head 


Christianity  and  Letters. 


257 


of  intellectual  gifts,  in  the  age  which  preceded  or 
introduced  the  first  formations  of  Human  Society,  in  an 
era  scarcely  historical,  we  may  dimly  discern  an  almost 
mythical  personage,  who,  putting  out  of  consideration 
the  actors  in  Old  Testament  history,  may  be  called  the 
first  Apostle  of  Civilization.  Like  an  Apostle  in  a higher 
order  of  things,  he  was  poor  and  a wanderer,  and  feeble 
in  the  flesh,  though  he  was  to  do  such  great  things,  and 
to  live  in  the  mouths  of  a hundred  generations  and  a 
thousand  tribes.  A blind  old  man ; whose  wanderings 
were  such  that,  when  he  became  famous,  his  birth-place 
could  not  be  ascertained,  so  that  it  v/as  said, — 

Seven  famous  towns  contend  for  Homer  dead, 

Through  which  the  living  Homer  begged  his  bread.” 

Yet  he  had  a name  in  his  day  ; and,  little  guessing  in 
what  vast  measures  his  wish  would  be  answered,  he  sup- 
plicated, with  a tender  human  sentiment,  as  he  wandered 
over  the  islands  of  the  ^gean  and  the  Asian  coasts,  that 
those  who  had  known  and  loved  him  would  cherish  his 
memory  when  he  was  away.  Unlike  the  proud  boast 
of  the  Roman  poet,  if  he  spoke  it  in  earnest,  Exegi 
monumentum  aere  perennius,’’  he  did  but  indulge  the 
hope  that  one,  whose  coming  had  been  expected  with 
pleasure,  might  excite  regret  when  he  had  departed,  and 
be  rewarded  by  the  sympathy  and  praise  of  his  friends 
even  in  the  presence  of  other  minstrels.  A set  of  verses 
remains,  which  is  ascribed  to  him,  in  which  he  addresses 
the  Delian  women  in  the  tone  of  feeling  which  I have 
described.  ‘‘Farewell  to  you  all,''  he  says,  “and  re- 
member me  in  time  to  come,  and  when  any  one  of  men 
on  earth,  a stranger  from  far,  shall  inquire  of  you,  O 
maidens,  who  is  the  sweetest  of  minstrels  here  about, 

^7 


/ 


258  Christia7iity  a?id  Letters. 

and  in  whom  do  you  most  delight  ? then  make  answer 
modestly,  It  is  a blind  man,  and  he  lives  in  steep 
Chios." 

The  great  poet  remained  unknown  for  some  centuries, 
— that  is,  unknown  to  what  we  call  fame.  His  verses 
were  cherished  by  his  countrymen,  they  might  be  the 
secret  delight  of  thousands,  but  they  were  not  collected 
into  a volume,  nor  viewed  as  a whole,  nor  made  a sub- 
ject of  criticism.  At  length  an  Athenian  Prince  took 
upon  him  the  task  of  gathering  together  the  scattered 
fragments  of  a genius  which  had  not  aspired  to  immor- 
tality, of  reducing  them  to  writing,  and  of  fitting  them 
to  be  the  text-book  of  ancient  education.  Henceforth 
the  vagrant  ballad-singer,  as  he  might  be  thought,  was 
submitted,  to  his  surprise,  to  a sort  of  literary  canoni- 
zation, and  was  invested  with  the  office  of  forming  the 
young  mind  of  Greece  to  noble  thoughts  and  bold  deeds. 
To  be  read  in  Homer  soon  became  the  education  of  a 
gentleman  ; and  a rule,  recognized  in  her  free  age,  re- 
mained as  a tradition  even  in  the  times  of  her  degra- 
dation. Xenophon  introduces  to  us  a youth  who  knew 
both  Iliad  and  Odyssey  by  heart ; Dio  witnesses  that 
they  were  some  of  the  first  books  put  into  the  hands  of 
boys  ; and  Horace  decided  that  they  taught  the  science 
of  life  better  than  Stoic  or  Academic.  Alexander  the 
Great  nourished  his  imagination  by  the  scenes  of  the 
Iliad.  As  time  went  on,  other  poets  were  associated 
with  Homer  in  the  work  of  education,  such  as  Hesiod 
and  the  Tragedians.  The  majestic  lessons  concerning 
duty  and  religion,  justice  and  providence,  which  occur  in 
iEschylus  and  Sophocles,  belong  to  a higher  school  than 
that  of  Homer ; and  the  verses  of  Euripides,  even  in  his 
lifetime,  were  so  familiar  to  Athenian  lips  and  so  dear 
to  foreign  ears,  that,  as  is  reported,  the  captives  of 


Christiajiiiy  mid  Letters.  259 

Syracuse  gained  their  freedom  at  the  price  of  reciting 
them  to  their  conquerors. 

Such  poetry  may  be  considered  oratory  also^  since  it 
has  so  great  a power  of  persuasion  ; and  the  alliance 
between  these  two  gifts  had  existed  from  the  time  that 
the  verses  of  Orpheus  had,  according  to  the  fable,  made 
woods  and  streams  and  wild  animals  to  follow  him 
about.  Soon,  however.  Oratory  became  the  subject  of 
a separate  art,  which  was  called  Rhetoric,  and  of  which 
the  Sophists  were  the  chief  masters.  Moreover,  as 
Rhetoric  was  especially  political  in  its  nature,  it  pre- 
supposed or  introduced  the  cultivation  of  History ; and 
thus  the  pages  of  Thucydides  became  one  of  the  special 
studies  by  which  Demosthenes  rose  to  be  the  first  orator 
of  Greece. 

But  it  is  needless  to  trace  out  further  the  formation  of 
the  course  of  liberal  education ; it  is  sufficient  to  have 
given  some  specimens  in  illustration  of  it.  The  studies, 
which  it  was  found  to  involve,  were  four  principal  ones. 
Grammar,  Rhetoric,  Logic,  and  Mathematics  ; and  the 
science  of  Mathematics,  again,  was  divided  into  four. 
Geometry,  Arithmetic,  Astronomy,  and  Music  ; making 
in  all  seven,  which  are  known  by  the  name  of  the  Seven 
Liberal  Arts.  And  thus  a definite  school  of  intellect  was 
formed,  founded  on  ideas  and  methods  of  a distinctive 
character,  and  (as  we  may  say)  of  the  highest  and  truest 
character,  as  far  as  they  went,  and  which  gradually  asso- 
ciated in  one,  and  assimilated,  and  took  possession  of, 
that  multitude  of  nations  which  I have  considered  to 
represent  mankind,  and  to  possess  the  orbis  terrarunu 

When  we  pass  from  Greece  to  Rome,  we  are  met  with 
the  common  remark,  that  Rome  produced  little  that  was 
original,  but  borrowed  from  Greece.  It  is  true  ; Terence 
copied  from  Menander,  Virgil  from  Homer,  Hesiod,  and 


26o  Christiaflity  and  Letters. 

Theocritus ; and  Cicero  professed  merely  to  reproduce 
the  philosophy  of  Greece.  But,  granting  its  truth  ever 
so  far,  I do  but  take  it  as  a proof  of  the  sort  of  instinct 
which  has  guided  the  course  of  Civilization.  The  world 
was  to  have  certain  intellectual  teachers,  and  no  others  ; 
Homer  and  Aristotle,  with  the  poets  and  philosophers 
who  circle  round  them,  were  to  be  the  schoolmasters  of 
all  generations,  and  therefore  the  Latins,  falling  into  the 
law  on  which  the  world’s  education  was  to  be  carried  on, 
so  added  to  the  classical  library  as  not  to  reverse  or  in- 
terfere with  what  had  already  been  determined.  And 
there  was  the  more  meaning  in  this  arrangement,  when 
it  is  considered  that  Greek  was  to  be  forgotten  during 
many  centuries,  and  the  tradition  of  intellectual  training 
to  be  conveyed  through  Latin  ; for  thus  the  world  was 
secured  against  the  consequences  of  a loss  which  would 
have  changed  the  character  of  its  civilization.  I think  it 
very  remarkable,  too,  how  soon  the  Latin  writers  became 
text-books  in  the  boys’  schools.  Even  to  this  day  Shake- 
speare and  Milton  are  not  studied  in  our  course  of  edu- 
cation ; but  the  poems  of  Virgil  and  Horace,  as  those  of 
Homer  and  the  Greek  authors  in  an  earlier  age,  were  in 
schoolboys’  satchels  not  much  more  than  a hundred 
years  after  they  were  written. 

I need  not  go  on  to  show  at  length  that  they  have 
preserved  their  place  in  the  system  of  education  in  the 
orbis  terrariimy  and  the  Greek  writers  with  them  or 
through  them,  down  to  this  day.  The  induction  of  cen- 
turies has  often  been  made.  Even  in  the  lowest  state 
of  learning  the  tradition  was  kept  up.  St.  Gregory  the 
Great,  whose  era,  not  to  say  whose  influence,  is  often  con- 
sidered especially  unfavourable  to  the  old  literature,  was 
himself  well  versed  in  it,  encouraged  purity  of  Latinity 
in  his  court,  and  is  said  figuratively  by  the  contemporary 


Christianity  and  Letters. 


261 


historian  of  his  life  to  have  supported  the  hall  of  the 
Apostolic  See  upon  the  columns  of  the  Seven  Liberal 
Arts.  In  the  ninth  century,  when  the  dark  age  was 
close  at  hand,  we  still  hear  of  the  cultivation,  with  what- 
ever success  (according  of  course  to  the  opportunities  ol 
the  times,  but  I am  speaking  of  the  nature  of  the  studies, 
not  of  the  proficiency  of  the  students),  the  cultivation 
of  Music,  Dialectics,  Rhetoric,  Grammar,  Mathematics, 
Astronomy,  Physics,  and  Geometry  ; of  the  supremacy 
of  Horace  in  the  schools,  and  the  great  Virgil,  Sallust, 
and  Statius.''  In  the  thirteenth  or  following  centuries, 
of  “ Virgil,  Lucian,  Statius,  Ovid,  Livy,  Sallust,  Cicero, 
and  Quintilian ; '’  and  after  the  revival  of  literature  in 
the  commencement  of  the  modern  era,  we  find  St.  Carlo 
Borromeo  enjoining  the  use  of  works  of  Cicero,  Ovid, 
Virgil,  and  Horace.* 


5. 

I pass  thus  cursorily  over  the  series  of  informations 
which  history  gives  us  on  the  subject,  merely  with  a view 
of  recalling  to  your  memory.  Gentlemen,  and  impressing 
upon  you  the  fact,  that  the  literature  of  Greece,  con- 
tinued into,  and  enriched  by,  the  literature  of  Rome,  to- 
gether with  the  studies  which  it  involves,  has  been  the 
instrument  of  education,  and  the  food  of  civilization,  from 
the  first  times  of  the  world  down  to  this  day  ; — and  now 
we  are  in  a condition  to  answer  the  question  which  there- 
upon arises,  when  we  turn  to  consider,  by  way  of  contrast, 
the  teaching  which  is  characteristic  of  Universities.  How 
has  it  come  to  pass  that,  although  the  genius  of  Universi- 
ties is  so  different  from  that  of  the  schools  which  preceded 
them,  nevertheless  the  course  of  study  pursued  in  those 

* Vid.  the  treatises  of  P.  Daniel  and  Mgr.  Landriot,  referred  to  in  His- 
torical Sketches,  vol.  ii.,  p.  460,  note. 


262 


Christia7iity  and  Letters. 


schools  was  not  superseded  in  the  middle  ages  by  those 
more  brilliant  sciences  which  Universities  introduced  ? 
It  might  have  seemed  as  if  Scholastic  Theology,  Law,  and 
Medicine  would  have  thrown  the  Seven  Liberal  Arts  into 
the  shade,  but  in  the  event  they  failed  to  do  so.  I con- 
sider the  reason  to  be,  that  the  authority  and  function  of 
the  monastic  and  secular  schools,  as  supplying  to  the 
young  the  means  of  education,  lay  deeper  than  in  any 
appointment  of  Charlemagne,  who  was  their  nominal 
founder,  and  were  based  in  the  special  character  of  that 
civilization  which  is  so  intimately  associated  with  Chris- 
tianity, that  it  may  even  be  called  the  soil  out  of  which 
Christianity  grew.  The  medieval  sciences,  great  as  is 
their  dignity  and  utility,  were  never  intended  to  supersede 
that  more  real  and  proper  cultivation  of  the  mind  which 
is  effected  by  the  study  of  the  liberal  Arts  ; and,  when 
certain  of  these  sciences  did  in  fact  go  out  of  their  pro- 
vince and  did  attempt  to  prejudice  the  traditional  course 
of  education,  the  encroachment  was  in  matter  of  fact 
resisted.  There  were  those  in  the  middle  age,  as  John  of 
Salisbury,  who  vigorously  protested  against  the  extrava- 
gances and  usurpations  which  ever  attend  the  introduc- 
tion of  any  great  good  whatever,  and  which  attended  the 
rise  of  the  peculiar  sciences  of  which  Universities  were 
the  seat ; and,  though  there  were  times  when  the  old 
traditions  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  failing,  somehow 
it  has  happened  that  they  have  never  failed  ; for  the  in- 
stinct of  Civilization  and  the  common  sense  of  Society 
prevailed,  and  the  danger  passed  away,  and  the  studies 
which  seemed  to  be  going  out  gained  their  ancient  place, 
and  were  acknowledged,  as  before,  to  be  the  best  instru- 
ments of  mental  cultivation,  and  the  best  guarantees  for 
intellectual  progress. 

And  this  experience  of  the  past  we  may  apply  to  the 


Christianity  and  Letters,  263 

circumstances  in  which  we  find  ourselves  at  present ; for, 
as  there  was  a movement  against  the  Classics  in  the 
middle  age,  so  has  there  been  now.  The  truth  of  the 
Baconian  method  for  the  purposes  for  which  it  was 
created,  and  its  inestimable  services  and  inexhaustible 
applications  in  the  interests  of  our  material  well-being, 
have  dazzled  the  imaginations  of  men,  somewhat  in  the 
same  way  as  certain  new  sciences  carried  them  away  in 
the  age  of  Abelard  ; and  since  that  method  does  such 
wonders  in  its  own  province,  it  is  not  unfrequently  sup- 
posed that  it  can  do  as  much  in  any  other  province  also. 
Now,  Bacon  himself  never  would  have  so  argued ; he 
would  not  have  needed  to  be  reminded  that  to  advance 
the  useful  arts  is  one  thing,  and  to  cultivate  the  mind 
another.  The  simple  question  to  be  considered  is,  how 
best  to  strengthen,  refine,  and  enrich  the  intellectual 
powers ; the  perusal  of  the  poets,  historians,  and  philo- 
sophers of  Greece  and  Rome  will  accomplish  this  pur- 
pose, as  long  experience  has  shown  ; but  that  the  study 
of  the  experimental  sciences  will  do  the  like,  is  proved 
to  us  as  yet  by  no  experience  whatever. 

Far  indeed  am  I from  denying  the  extreme  attrac- 
tiveness, as  well  as  the  practical  benefit  to  the  world 
at  large,  of  the  sciences  of  Chemistry,  Electricity,  and 
Geology ; but  the  question  is  not  what  department  of 
study  contains  the  more  wonderful  facts,  or  promises 
the  more  brilliant  discoveries,  and  which  is  in  the 
higher  and  which  in  an  inferior  rank ; but  simply  which 
out  of  all  provides  the  most  robust  and  invigorating 
discipline  for  the  unformed  mind.  And  I conceive  it  is 
as  little  disrespectful  to  Lord  Bacon  to  prefer  the  Classics 
in  this  point  of  view  to  the  sciences  which  have  grown 
out  of  his  philosophy  as  it  would  be  disrespectful  to  St. 
Thomas  in  the  middle  ages  to  have  hindered  the  study 


264  Christianity  and  Letters. 

of  the  Summa  from  doing  prejudice  to  the  Faculty  of 
Arts.  Accordingly,  I anticipate  that,  as  in  the  middle 
ages  both  the  teaching  and  the  government  of  the 
University  remained  in  the  Faculty  of  Arts,  in  spite 
of  the  genius  which  created  or  illustrated  Theology  and 
Law,  so  now  too,  whatever  be  the  splendour  of  the 
modern  philosophy,  the  marvellousness  of  its  disclosures, 
the  utility  of  its  acquisitions,  and  the  talent  of  its  masters, 
still  it  will  not  avail  in  the  event,  to  detrude  classical  litera- 
ture and  the  studies  connected  with  it  from  the  place  which 
they  have  held  in  all  ages  in  education. 

Such,  then,  is  the  course  of  reflection  obviously  sug- 
gested by  the  act  in  which  we  have  been  lately  engaged, 
and  which  we  are  now  celebrating.  In  the  nineteenth 
century,  in  a country  which  looks  out  upon  a new  world, 
and  anticipates  a coming  age,  we  have  been  engaged  in 
opening  the  Schools  dedicated  to  the  studies  of  polite 
literature  and  liberal  science,  or  what  are  called  the 
Arts,  as  a first  step  towards  the  establishment  on 
Catholic  ground  of  a Catholic  University.  And  while 
we  thus  recur  to  Greece  and  Athens  with  pleasure 
and  affection,  and  recognize  in  that  famous  land  the 
source  and  the  school  of  intellectual  culture,  it  would  be 
strange  indeed  if  we  forgot  to  look  further  south  also, 
and  there  to  bow  before  a more  glorious  luminary,  and 
a more  sacred  oracle  of  truth,  and  the  source  of  another 
sort  of  knowledge,  high  and  supernatural,  which  is 
seated  in  Palestine.  Jerusalem  is  the  fountain-head  of 
religious  knowledge,  as  Athens  is  of  secular.  In  the 
ancient  world  we  see  two  centres  of  illumination,  acting 
independently  of  each  other,  each  with  its  own  move- 
ment, and  at  first  apparently  without  any  promise  ot 
convergence.  Greek  civilization  spreads  over  the  East, 
conquering  in  the  conquests  of  Alexander,  and,  when 


Christianity  and  Letters.  265 

carried  captive  into  the  West,  subdues  the  conquerors  who 
brought  it  thither.  Religion,  on  the  other  hand,  is  driven 
from  its  own  aboriginal  home  to  the  North  and  West  by- 
reason  of  the  sins  of  the  people  who  were  in  charge  of 
it,  in  a long  course  of  judgments  and  plagues  and  perse- 
cutions. Each  by  itself  pursues  its  career  and  fulfils  its 
mission ; neither  of  them  recognizes,  nor  is  recognized 
by  the  other.  At  length  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  is 
rooted  up  by  the  armies  of  Titus,  and  the  effete  schools 
of  Athens  are  stifled  by  the  edict  of  Justinian.  So  pass 
away  the  ancient  Voices  of  religion  and  learning  ; but  they 
are  silenced  only  to  revive  more  gloriously  and  perfectly 
elsewhere.  Hitherto  they  came  from  separate  sources, 
and  performed  separate  works.  Each  leaves  an  heir  and 
successor  in  the  West,  and  that  heir  and  successor  is 
one  and  the  same.  The  grace  stored  in  Jerusalem,  and 
the  gifts  which  radiate  from  Athens,  are  made  over  and 
concentrated  in  Rome.  This  is  true  as  a matter  of 
history.  Rome  has  inherited  both  sacred  and  pro- 
fane learning ; she  has  perpetuated  and  dispensed  the 
traditions  of  Moses  and  David  in  the  supernatural  order, 
and  of  Homer  and  Aristotle  in  the  natural.  To  separate 
those  distinct  teachings,  human  and  divine,  which  meet 
in  Rome,  is  to  retrograde;  it  is  to  rebuild  the  Jewish 
Temple  and  to  plant  anew  the  groves  of  Academus. 

6. 

On  this  large  subject,  however,  on  which  I might  say 
much,  time  does  not  allow  me  to  enter.  To  show  how 
sacred  learning  and  profane  are  dependent  on  each  other, 
correlative  and  mutually  complementary,  how  faith 
operates  by  means  of  reason,  and  reason  is  directed 
and  corrected  by  faith,  is  really  the  subject  of  a distinct 
lecture.  I would  conclude,  then,  with  merely  congratu- 


^66  Christianity  and  Letters. 

lating  you,  Gentlemen,  on  the  great  undertaking  which 
we  have  so  auspiciously  commenced.  Whatever  be  its 
fortunes,  whatever  its  difficulties,  whatever  its  delays,  I 
cannot  doubt  at  all  that  the  encouragement  which  it  has 
already  received,  and  the  measure  of  success  which  it 
has  been  allotted,  are  but  a presage  and  an  anticipation 
of  a gradual  advance  towards  its  completion,  in  such 
times  and  such  manner  as  Providence  shall  appoint. 
For  myself,  I have  never  had  any  misgiving  about  it, 
because  I had  never  known  anything  of  it  before  the 
time  when  the  Holy  See  had  definitely  decided  upon  its 
prosecution.  It  is  my  happiness  to  have  no  cognizance 
of  the  anxieties  and  perplexities  of  venerable  and  holy 
prelates,  or  the  discussions  of  experienced  and  prudent 
men,  which  preceded  its  definitive  recognition  on  the 
part  of  the  highest  ecclesiastical  authority.  It  is  my 
happiness  to  have  no  experience  of  the  time  when  good 
Catholics  despaired  of  its  success,  distrusted  its  expe- 
diency, or  even  felt  an  obligation  to  oppose  it.  It  has 
been  my  happiness  that  I have  never  been  in  con- 
troversy with  persons  in  this  country  external  to  the 
Catholic  Church,  nor  have  been  forced  into  any  direct 
collision  with  institutions  or  measures  which  rest  on  a 
foundation  hostile  to  Catholicism.  No  one  can  accuse 
me  of  any  disrespect  towards  those  whose  principles  or 
whose  policy  I disapprove  ; nor  am  I conscious  of  any 
other  aim  than  that  of  working  in  my  own  place,  without 
going  out  of  my  way  to  offend  others.  If  I have  taken 
part  in  the  undertaking  which  has  now  brought  us  to- 
gether, it  has  been  because  I believed  it  was  a great 
work,  great  in  its  conception,  great  in  its  promise,  and 
great  in  the  authority  from  which  it  proceeds.  I felt  it 
to  be  so  great  that  I did  not  dare  to  incur  the  responsi- 
bility of  refusing  to  take  part  in  it. 


Chrutianity  and  Letters.  267 

How  far  indeed,  and  how  long,  I am  to  be  connected 
with  it,  is  another  matter  altogether.  It  is  enough  for 
one  man  to  lay  only  one  stone  of  so  noble  and  grand  an 
edifice ; it  is  enough,  more  than  enough  for  me,  if  I do 
so  much  as  merely  begin,  what  others  may  mere  hope- 
fully continue.  One  only  among  the  sons  of  men  has 
carried  out  a perfect  work,  and  satisfied  and  exhausted 
the  mission  on  which  He  came.  One  alone  has  with 
His  last  breath  said  Consummatum  est.’'  But  all  who 
set  about  their  duties  in  faith  and  hope  and  love,  with  a 
resolute  heart  and  a devoted  will,  are  able,  weak  though 
they  be,  to  do  what,  though  incomplete,  is  imperishable. 
Even  their  failures  become  successes,  as  being  necessary 
steps  in  a course,  and  as  terms  (so  to  say)  in  a long 
series,  which  will  at  length  fulfil  the  object  which  they 
propose.  And  they  will  unite  themselves  in  spirit,  in 
their  humble  degree,  with  those  real  heroes  of  Holy 
Writ  and  ecclesiastical  history,  Moses,  Elias,  and  David, 
Basil,  Athanasius,  and  Chrysostom,  Gregory  the  Se- 
venth, St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  and  many  others, 
who  did  most  when  they  fancied  themselves  least 
prosperous,  and  died  without  being  permitted  to  see 
the  fruit  of  their  labours. 


/ 


268 


IL 


LITERATURE. 


A LECTURE  IN  THE  SCHOOL  OF  PHILOSOPHY  AND 
LETTERS. 


I 


ISHING  to  address  you,  Gentlemen,  at  the  com- 


V V mencement  of  a new  Session,  I tried  to  find  a 
subject  for  discussion,  which  might  be  at  once  suitable  to 
the  occasion,  yet  neither  too  large  for  your  time,  nor  too 
minute  or  abstruse  for  your  attention.  I think  I see  one 
for  my  purpose  in  the  very  title  of  your  Faculty.  It 
is  the  Faculty  of  Philosophy  and  Letters.  Now  the 
question  may  arise  as  to  what  is  meant  by  “ Philosophy,” 
and  what  is  meant  by  ‘‘Letters.”  As  to  the  other 
Faculties,  the  subject-matter  which  they  profess  is  in- 
telligible, as  soon  as  named,  and  beyond  all  dispute. 
We  know  what  Science  is,  what  Medicine,  what  Law, 
and  what  Theology ; but  we  have  not  so  much  ease  in 
determining  what  is  meant  by  Philosophy  and  Letters. 
Each  department  of  that  twofold  province  needs  expla- 
nation : it  will  be  sufficient,  on  an  occasion  like  this,  to 
investigate  one  of  them.  Accordingly  I shall  select  for 
remark  the  latter  of  the  two,  and  attempt  to  determine 
what  we  are  to  understand  by  Letters  or  Literature,  in 
what  Literature  consists,  and  how  it  stands  relatively  to 


Literature. 


269 


Science.  We  speak,  for  instance,  of  ancient  and  modern 
literature,  the  literature  of  the  day,  sacred  literature, 
light  literature ; and  our  lectures  in  this  place  are 
devoted  to  classical  literature  and  English  literature. 
Are  Letters,  then,  synonymous  with  books  } This  cannot 
be,  or  they  would  include  in  their  range  Philosophy, 
Law,  and,  in  short,  the  teaching  of  all  the  other  Faculties. 
Far  from  confusing  these  various  studies,  we  view  the 
works  of  Plato  or  Cicero  sometimes  as  philosophy,  some- 
times as  literature ; on  the  other  hand,  no  one  would 
ever  be  tempted  to  speak  of  Euclid  as  literature,  or  of 
Matthiae's  Greek  Grammar.  Is,  then,  literature  synony- 
mous with  composition  ? with  books  written  with  an 
attention  to  style  ? is  literature  fine  writing  ? again,  is  it 
studied  and  artificial  writing  .? 

There  are  excellent  persons  who  seem  to  adopt  this 
last  account  of  Literature  as  their  own  idea  of  it.  They 
depreciate  it,  as  if  it  were  the  result  of  a mere  art  or 
trick  of  words.  Professedly  indeed,  they  are  aiming  at 
the  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  but  their  criticisms  have 
quite  as  great  force  against  all  literature  as  against  any. 
I think  I shall  be  best  able  to  bring  out  what  I have  to 
say  on  the  subject  by  examining  the  statements  which 
they  make  in  defence  of  their  own  view  of  it.  They 
contend  then,  i.  that  fine  writing,  as  exemplified  in  the 
Classics,  is  mainly  a matter  of  conceits,  fancies,  and  pret- 
tinesses, decked  out  in  choice  words ; 2.  that  this  is  the 
proof  of  it,  that  the  classics  will  not  bear  translating  ; — 
(and  this  is  why  I have  said  that  the  real  attack  is  upon 
literature  altogether,  not  the  classical  only  ; for,  to  speak 
generally,  all  literature,  modern  as  well  as  ancient,  lies 
under  this  disadvantage.  This,  however,  they  will  not 
allow ; for  they  maintain,)  3.  that  Holy  Scripture  presents  a 
remarkable  contrast  to  secular  writings  on  this  very  point, 


270 


Literature. 


viz,,  in  that  Scripture  does  easily  admit  of  translation, 
though  it  is  the  most  sublime  and  beautiful  of  all  writings. 


2. 

Now  I will  begin  by  stating  these  three  positions  in 
the  words  of  a writer,  who  is  cited  by  the  estimable 
Catholics  in  question  as  a witness,  or  rather  as  an 
advocate,  in  their  behalf,  though  he  is  far  from  being 
able  in  his  own  person  to  challenge  the  respect  which  is 
inspired  by  themselves. 

There  are  two  sorts  of  eloquence,”  says  this  writer, 
''  the  one  indeed  scarce  deserves  the  name  of  it,  which 
consists  chiefly  in  laboured  and  polished  periods,  an 
over-curious  and  artificial  arrangement  of  figures,  tin- 
selled over  with  a gaudy  embellishment  of  words, 
which  glitter,  but  convey  little  or  no  light  to  the  under- 
standing. This  kind  of  writing  is  for  the  most  part 
much  affected  and  admired  by  the  people  of  weak 
judgment  and  vicious  taste ; but  it  is  a piece  of  affecta- 
tion and  formality  the  sacred  writers  are  utter  strangers 
to.  It  is  a vain  and  boyish  eloquence  ; and,  as  it  has 
always  been  esteemed  below  the  great  geniuses  of  all 
ages,  so  much  more  so  with  respect  to  those  writers  who 
were  actuated  by  the  spirit  of  Infinite  Wisdom,  and 
therefore  wrote  with  that  force  and  majesty  with  which 
never  man  writ.  The  other  sort  of  eloquence  is  quite 
the  reverse  to  this,  and  which  may  be  said  to  be  the  true 
characteristic  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  ; where  the  ex- 
cellence does  not  arise  from  a laboured  and  far-fetched 
elocution,  but  from  a surprising  mixture  of  simplicity 
and  majesty,  which  is  a double  character,  so  difficult  to 
be  united  that  it  is  seldom  to  be  met  with  in  compo- 
sitions merely  human.  We  see  nothing  in  Holy  Writ 
of  affectation  and  superfluous  ornament  . . . Now,  it  is 


Literature. 


271 


observable  that  the  most  excellent  profane  authors, 
whether  Greek  or  Latin,  lose  most  of  their  graces  when- 
ever we  find  them  literally  translated.  Homer  s famed 
representation  of  Jupiter — his  cried-up  description  of  a 
tempest,  his  relation  of  Neptune’s  shaking  the  earth  and 
opening  it  to  its  centre,  his  description  of  Pallas’s  horses, 
with  numbers  of  other  long-since  admired  passages, 
flag,  and  almost  vanish  away,  in  the  vulgar  Latin 
translation. 

Let  any  one  but  take  the  pains  to  read  the  common 
Latin  interpretations  of  Virgil,  Theocritus,  or  even  of 
Pindar,  and  one  may  venture  to  affirm  he  will  be  able  to 
trace  out  but  few  remains  of  the  graces  which  charmed 
him  so  much  in  the  original.  The  natural  conclusion 
from  hence  is,  that  in  the  classical  authors,  the  expres- 
sion, the  sweetness  of  the  numbers,  occasioned  by  a 
musical  placing  of  words,  constitute  a great  part  of  their 
beauties  ; whereas,  in  the  sacred  writings,  they  consist 
more  in  the  greatness  of  the  things  themselves  than  in 
the  words  and  expressions.  The  ideas  and  conceptions 
are  so  great  and  lofty  in  their  own  nature  that  they 
necessarily  appear  magnificent  in  the  most  artless  dress. 
Look  but  into  the  Bible,  and  we  see  them  shine  through 
the  most  simple  and  literal  translations.  That  glorious 
description  which  Moses  gives  of  the  creation  of  the 
heavens  and  the  earth,  which  Longinus  . . . was  so 
greatly  taken  with,  has  not  lost  the  least  whit  of  its 
intrinsic  worth,  and  though  it  has  undergone  so  many 
translations,  yet  triumphs  over  all,  and  breaks  forth 
with  as  much  force  and  vehemence  as  in  the  original.  . . . 
In  the  history  of  Joseph,  where  Joseph  makes  himself 
known,  and  weeps  aloud  upon  the  neck  of  his  dear 
brother  Benjamin,  that  all  the  house  of  Pharaoh  heard 
him,  at  that  instant  none  of  his  brethren  are  introduced 


272 


Literature. 


as  uttering  aught,  either  to  express  their  present  joy 
or  palliate  their  former  injuries  to  him.  On  all  sides 
there  immediately  ensues  a deep  and  solemn  silence  ; a 
silence  infinitely  more  eloquent  and  expressive  than  any- 
thing else  that  could  have  been  substituted  in  its  place. 
Had  Thucydides,  Herodotus,  Livy,  or  any  of  the  cele- 
brated classical  historians,  been  employed  in  writing  this 
history,  when  they  came  to  this  point  they  would  doubt- 
less have  exhausted  all  their  fund  of  eloquence  in  fur- 
nishing Joseph's  brethren  with  laboured  and  studied 
harangues,  which,  however  fine  they  might  have  been  in 
themselves,  would  nevertheless  have  been  unnatural,  and 
altogether  improper  on  the  occasion."  * 

This  is  eloquently  written,  but  it  contains,  I consider, 
a mixture  of  truth  and  falsehood,  which  it  will  be  my 
business  to  discriminate  from  each  other.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  deny  the  unapproachable  grandeur  and  sim- 
plicity of  Holy  Scripture  ; but  I shall  maintain  that  the 
classics  are,  as  human  compositions,  simple  and  majestic 
and  natural  too.  I grant  that  Scripture  is  concerned 
with  things,  but  I will  not  grant  that  classical  literature 
is  simply  concerned  with  words.  I grant  that  human 
literature  is  often  elaborate,  but  I will  maintain  that 
elaborate  composition  is  not  unknown  to  the  writers  of 
Scripture.  I grant  that  human  literature  cannot  easily 
be  translated  out  of  the  particular  language  to  which  it 
belongs  ; but  it  is  not  at  all  the  rule  that  Scripture  can 
easily  be  translated  either  ; — and  now  I address  myself 
to  my  task  : — 


3. 

Here,  then,  in  the  first  place,  I observe,  Gentlemen, 
that  Literature,  from  the  derivation  of  the  word,  implies 

^ Sterne,  Sermon  xlii. 


Literature. 


writing,  not  speaking  ; this,  however,  arises  from  the 
circumstance  of  the  copiousness,  variety,  and  public 
circulation  of  the  matters  of  which  it  consists.  What  is 
spoken  cannot  outrun  the  range  of  the  speaker  s voice, 
and  perishes  in  the  uttering.  When  words  are  in  de- 
mand to  express  a long  course  of  thought,  when  they 
have  to  be  conveyed  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  or  perpe- 
tuated for  the  benefit  of  posterity,  they  must  be  written 
down,  that  is,  reduced  to  the  shape  of  literature  ; still, 
properly  speaking,  the  terms,  by  which  we  denote  this 
characteristic  gift  of  man,  belong  to  its  exhibition  by 
means  of  the  voice,  not  of  handwriting.  It  addresses 
itself,  in  its  primary  idea,  to  the  ear,  not  to  the  eye.  We 
call  it  the  power  of  speech,  we  call  it  language,  that  is, 
the  use  of  the  tongue  ; and,  even  when  we  write,  we  still 
keep  in  mind  what  was  its  original  instrument,  for  we  use 
freely  such  terms  in  our  books  as  ‘‘  saying,'’  speaking,” 
‘‘telling,”  “talking,”  “calling;”  we  use  the  terms  “phrase- 
ology” and  “diction;”  as  if  we  were  still  addressing  our- 
selves to  the  ear. 

Now  I insist  on  this,  because  it  shows  that  speech,  and 
therefore  literature,  which  is  its  permanent  record,  is 
essentially  a personal  work.  It  is  not  some  production 
or  result,  attained  by  the  partnership  of  several  persons, 
or  by  machinery,  or  by  any  natural  process,  but  in  its 
very  idea  it  proceeds,  and  must  proceed,  from  some  one 
given  individual.  Two  persons  cannot  be  the  authors  of 
the  sounds  which  strike  our  ear ; and,  as  they  cannot  be 
speaking  one  and  the  same  speech,  neither  can  they  be 
writing  one  and  the  same  lecture  or  discourse, — which 
must  certainly  belong  to  some  one  person  or  other,  and 
is  the  expression  of  that  one  person’s  ideas  and  feelings, 
— ideas  and  feelings  personal  to  himself,  though  others 
may  have  parallel  and  similar  ones, — proper  to  himself, 

i8 


274 


Literature. 


in  the  same  sense  as  his  voice,  his  air,  his  countenance, 
his  carriage,  and  his  action,  are  personal.  In  other 
words.  Literature  expresses,  not  objective  truth,  as  it  is 
called,  but  subjective  ; not  things,  but  thoughts. 

Now  this  doctrine  will  become  clearer  by  considering 
another  use  of  words,  which  does  relate  to  objective 
truth,  or  to  things  ; which  relates  to  matters,  not 
personal,  not  subjective  to  the  individual,  but  which, 
even  were  there  no  individual  man  in  the  whole  world 
to  know  them  or  to  talk  about  them,  would  exist  stilL 
Such  objects  become  the  matter  of  Science,  and  words 
indeed  are  used  to  express  them,  but  such  words  are 
rather  symbols  than  language,  and  however  many  we 
use,  and  however  we  may  perpetuate  them  by  writing, 
we  never  could  make  any  kind  of  literature  out  of  them, 
or  call  them  by  that  name.  Such,  for  instance,  would 
be  Euclid’s  Elements  ; they  relate  to  truths  universal 
and  eternal ; they  are  not  mere  thoughts,  but  things  : 
they  exist  in  themselves,  not  by  virtue  of  our  under- 
standing them,  not  in  dependence  upon  our  will,  but  in 
what  is  called  the  nature  of  things,  or  at  least  on  con- 
ditions external  to  us.  The  words,  then,  in  which  they 
are  set  forth  are  not  language,  speech,  literature,  but 
rather,  as  I have  said,  symbols.  And,  as  a proof  of  it, 
you  will  recollect  that  it  is  possible,  nay  usual,  to  set 
forth  the  propositions  of  Euclid  in  algebraical  notation, 
which,  as  all  would  admit,  has  nothing  to  do  with 
literature.  What  is  true  of  mathematics  is  true  also  of 
every  study,  so  far  forth  as  it  is  scientific ; it  makes  use 
of  words  as  the  mere  vehicle  of  things,  and  is  thereby 
withdrawn  from  the  province  of  literature.  Thus 
metaphysics,  ethics,  law,  political  economy,  chemistry, 
theology,  cease  to  be  literature  in  the  same  degree  as 
they  are  capable  of  a severe  scientific  treatment.  And 


Literature. 


275 


hence  it  is  that  Aristotle's  works  on  the  one  hand, 
though  at  first  sight  literature,  approach  in  character,  at 
least  a great  number  of  them,  to  mere  science  ; for  even 
though  the  things  which  he  treats  of  and  exhibits  may 
not  always  be  real  and  true,  yet  he  treats  them  as  if  they 
were,  not  as  if  they  were  the  thoughts  of  his  own  mind ; 
that  is,  he  treats  them  scientifically.  On  the  other  hand. 
Law  or  Natural  History  has  before  now  been  treated  by 
an  author  with  so  much  of  colouring  derived  from  his 
own  mind  as  to  become  a sort  of  literature ; this  is 
especially  seen  in  the  instance  of  Theology,  when  it 
takes  the  shape  of  Pulpit  Eloquence.  It  is  seen  too  in 
historical  composition,  which  becomes  a mere  specimen 
of  chronology,  or  a chronicle,  when  divested  of  the 
philosophy,  the  skill,  or  the  party  and  personal  feelings 
of  the  particular  writer.  Science,  then,  has  to  do  with 
things,  literature  with  thoughts  ; science  is  universal, 
literature  is  personal ; science  uses  words  merely  as 
symbols,  but  literature  uses  language  in  its  full  compass, 
as  including  phraseology,  idiom,  style,  composition, 
rhythm,  eloquence,  and  whatever  other  properties  are 
included  in  it. 

Let  us  then  put  aside  the  scientific  use  of  words,  when 
we  are  to  speak  of  language  and  literature.  Literature  is 
the  personal  use  or  exercise  of  language.  That  this  is  so 
is  further  proved  from  the  fact  that  one  author  uses  it  so 
differently  from  another.  Language  itself  in  its  very 
origination  would  seem  to  be  traceable  to  individuals. 
Their  peculiarities  have  given  it  its  character.  We  are 
often  able  in  fact  to  trace  particular  phrases  or  idioms  to 
individuals ; we  know  the  history  of  their  rise.  Slang 
surely,  as  it  is  called,  comes  of,  and  breathes  of  the  per- 
sonal. The  connection  between  the  force  of  words  in 
particular  languages  and  the  habits  and  sentiments  of 


276 


Literature. 


the  nations  speaking  them  has  often  been  pointed  out 
And,  while  the  many  use  language  as  they  find  it,  the 
man  of  genius  uses  it  indeed,  but  subjects  it  withal  to  his 
own  purposes,  and  moulds  it  according  to  his  own  pecu- 
liarities. The  throng  and  succession  of  ideas,  thoughts, 
feelings,  imaginations,  aspirations,  which  pass  within  him, 
the  abstractions,  the  juxtapositions,  the  comparisons,  the 
discriminations,  the  conceptions,  which  are  so  original  in 
him,  his  views  of  external  things,  his  judgments  upon 
life,  manners,  and  history,  the  exercises  of  his  wit,  of 
his  humour,  of  his  depth,  of  his  sagacity,  all  these  in- 
numerable and  incessant  creations,  the  very  pulsation 
and  throbbing  of  his  intellect,  does  he  image  forth,  to  all 
does  he  give  utterance,  in  a corresponding  language, 
which  is  as  multiform  as  this  inward  mental  action  itself 
and  analogous  to  it,  the  faithful  expression  of  his  in- 
tense personality,  attending  on  his  own  inward  world  of 
thought  as  its  very  shadow : so  that  we  might  as  well 
say  that  one  man’s  shadow  is  another’s  as  that  the  style 
of  a really  gifted  mind  can  belong  to  any  but  himself. 
It  follows  him  about  as  a shadow.  His  thought  and 
feeling  are  personal,  and  so  his  language  is  personal. 

4. 

Thought  and  speech  are  inseparable  from  each  other. 
Matter  and  expression  are  parts  of  one : style  is  a think- 
ing out  into  language.  This  is  what  I have  been  laying 
down,  and  this  is  literature ; not  things,  not  the  verbal 
symbols  of  things  ; not  on  the  other  hand  mere  words ; 
but  thoughts  expressed  in  language.  Call  to  mind, 
Gentlemen,  the  meaning  of  the  Greek  word  which  ex- 
presses this  special  prerogative  of  man  over  the  feeble 
intelligence  of  the  inferior  animals.  It  is  called  Logos  : 
what  does  Logos  mean  } it  stands  both  for  reason  and  for 


literature. 


277 


speech^  and  it  is  difficult  to  say  which  it  means  more  pro- 
perly. It  means  both  at  once  : why  } because  really  they 
cannot  be  divided, — because  they  are  in  a true  sense  one. 
When  we  can  separate  light  and  illumination,  life  and 
motion,  the  convex  and  the  concave  of  a curve,  then  will 
it  be  possible  for  thought  to  tread  speech  under  foot,  and 
to  hope  to  do  without  it — then  will  it  be  conceivable 
that  the  vigorous  and  fertile  intellect  should  renounce 
its  own  double,  its  instrument  of  expression,  and  the 
channel  of  its  speculations  and  emotions. 

Critics  should  consider  this  view  of  the  subject  before 
they  lay  down  such  canons  of  taste  as  the  writer  whose 
pages  I have  quoted.  Such  men  as  he  is  consider  fine 
writing  to  be  an  addition  from  without  to  the  matter 
treated  of, — a sort  of  ornament  superinduced,  or  a luxury 
indulged  in,  by  those  who  have  time  and  inclination  for 
such  vanities.  They  speak  as  if  one  man  could  do  the 
thought,  and  another  the  style.  We  read  in  Persian 
travels  of  the  way  in  which  young  gentlemen  go  to  work 
in  the  East,  when  they  would  engage  in  correspondence 
with  those  who  inspire  them  with  hope  or  fear.  They 
cannot  write  one  sentence  themselves  ; so  they  betake 
themselves  to  the  professional  letter-writer.  They  con- 
fide to  him  the  object  they  have  in  view.  They  have  a 
point  to  gain  from  a superior,  a favour  to  ask,  an  evil  to 
deprecate  ; they  have  to  approach  a man  in  power,  or  to 
make  court  to  some  beautiful  lady.  The  professional 
man  manufactures  words  for  them,  as  they  are  wanted, 
as  a stationer  sells  them  paper,  or  a schoolmaster  might 
cut  their  pens.  Thought  and  word  are,  in  their  concep- 
tion, two  things,  and  thus  there  is  a division  of  labour. 
The  man  of  thought  comes  to  the  man  of  words;  and 
the  man  of  words,  duly  instructed  in  the  thought,  dips 
the  pen  of  desire  into  the  ink  of  devotedness,  and  pro- 


278 


Literature. 


ceeds  to  spread  it  over  the  page  of  desolation.  Then  the 
nightingale  of  affection  is  heard  to  warble  to  the  rose  of 
loveliness,  while  the  breeze  of  anxiety  plays  around  the 
brow  of  expectation.  This  is  what  the  Easterns  are  said 
to  consider  fine  writing;  and  it  seems  pretty  much  the  idea 
of  the  school  of  critics  to  whom  I have  been  referring. 

We  have  an  instance  in  literary  history  of  this  very 
proceeding  nearer  home,  in  a great  University,  in  the 
latter  years  of  the  last  century.  I have  referred  to  it 
before  now  in  a public  lecture  elsewhere  * ; but  it  is  too 
much  in  point  here  to  be  omitted.  A learned  Arabic 
scholar  had  to  deliver  a set  of  lectures  before  its  doctors 
and  professors  on  an  historical  subject  in  which  his 
reading  had  lain.  A linguist  is  conversant  with  science 
rather  than  with  literature ; but  this  gentleman  felt  that 
his  lectures  must  not  be  without  a style.  Being  of  the 
opinion  of  the  Orientals,  with  whose  writings  he  was 
familiar,  he  determined  to  buy  a style.  He  took  the 
step  of  engaging  a person,  at  a price,  to  turn  the  matter 
which  he  had  got  together  into  ornamental  English. 
Observe,  he  did  not  wish  for  mere  grammatical  English, 
but  for  an  elaborate,  pretentious  style.  An  artist  was 
found  in  the  person  of  a country  curate,  and  the  job  was 
carried  out.  His  lectures  remain  to  this  day,  in  their 
own  place  in  the  protracted  series  of  annual  Discourses 
to  which  they  belong,  distinguished  amid  a number  of 
heavyish  compositions  by  the  rhetorical  and  ambitious 
diction  for  which  he  went  into  the  market.  This  learned 
divine,  indeed,  and  the  author  I have  quoted,  differ  from 
each  other  in  the  estimate  they  respectively  form  of 
literary  composition  ; but  they  agree  together  in  this, — in 
considering  such  composition  a trick  and  a trade ; they 
put  it  on  a par  with  the  gold  plate  and  the  flowers  and 
♦ “ Position  of  Catholics  in  England,”  pp.  10 1.  2, 


Literature. 


279 


the  music  of  a banquet,  which  do  not  make  the  viands 
better,  but  the  entertainment  more  pleasurable  ; as  if 
language  were  the  hired  servant,  the  mere  mistress  of  the 
reason,  and  not  the  lawful  wife  in  her  own  house. 

But  can  they  really  think  that  Homer,  or  Pindar, 
or  Shakespeare,  or  Dryden,  or  Walter  Scott,  were 
accustomed  to  aim  at  diction  for  its  own  sake,  instead  of 
being  inspired  with  their  subject,  and  pouring  forth 
beautiful  words  because  they  had  beautiful  thoughts  } 
this  is  surely  too  great  a paradox  to  be  borne.  Rather, 
it  is  the  fire  within  the  author's  breast  which  overflows 
in  the  torrent  of  his  burning,  irresistible  eloquence  ; it  is 
the  poetry  of  his  inner  soul,  which  relieves  itself  in  the 
Ode  or  the  Elegy ; and  his  mental  attitude  and  bearing, 
the  beauty  of  his  moral  countenance,  the  force  and 
keenness  of  his  logic,  are  imaged  in  the  tenderness,  or 
energy,  or  richness  of  his  language.  Nay,  according  to 
the  well-known  line,  ‘‘  facit  indignatio  versus ; " not  the 
words  alone,  but  even  the  rhythm,  the  metre,  the  verse, 
will  be  the  contemporaneous  offspring  of  the  emotion  or 
imagination  which  possesses  him.  ‘‘  Poeta  nascitur,  non 
fit,”  says  the  proverb  ; and  this  is  in  numerous  instances 
true  of  his  poems,  as  well  as  of  himself.  They  are  born, 
not  framed  ; they  are  a strain  rather  than  a composition  ; 
and  their  perfection  is  the  monument,  not  so  much  of  his 
skill  as  of  his  power.  And  this  is  true  of  prose  as  well  as 
of  verse  in  its  degree  : who  will  not  recognize  in  the  vision 
of  Mirza  a delicacy  and  beauty  of  style  which  is  very 
difficult  to  describe,  but  which  is  felt  to  be  in  exact 
correspondence  to  the  ideas  of  which  it  is  the  expression  ? 

5- 

And,  since  the  thoughts  and  reasonings  of  an  author 
have,  as  I have  said,  a personal  character^  no  wonder  that 


28o 


JLiterature, 


his  style  is  not  only  the  image  of  his  subject,  but  of  his 
mind.  That  pomp  of  language,  that  full  and  tuneful 
diction,  that  felicitousness  in  the  choice  and  exquisiteness 
in  the  collocation  of  words,  which  to  prosaic  writers  seem 
artificial,  is  nothing  else  but  the  mere  habit  and  way  of  a 
lofty  intellect  Aristotle,  in  his  sketch  of  the  magnani- 
mous man,  tells  us  that  his  voice  is  deep,  his  motions  slow, 
and  his  stature  commanding.  In  like  manner,  the  elocu- 
tion of  a great  intellect  is  great  His  language  expresses, 
not  only  his  great  thoughts,  but  his  great  self.  Certainly 
he  might  use  fewer  words  than  he  uses  ; but  he  fertilizes 
his  simplest  ideas,  and  germinates  into  a multitude  of 
details,  and  prolongs  the  march  of  his  sentences,  and 
sweeps  round  to  the  full  diapason  of  his  harmony,  as  if 
Kvhel^aLoDv,  rejoicing  in  his  own  vigour  and  richness  of  re- 
source. I say,  a narrow  critic  will  call  it  verbiage,  when 
really  it  is  a sort  of  fulness  of  heart,  parallel  to  that  which 
makes  the  merry  boy  whistle  as  he  walks,  or  the  strong 
man,  like  the  smith  in  the  novel,  flourish  his  club  when 
there  is  no  one  to  fight  with. 

Shakespeare  furnishes  us  with  frequent  instances  of 
this  peculiarity,  and  all  so  beautiful,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
select  for  quotation.  For  instance,  in  Macbeth  ; — 

“ Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a mind  diseased, 

Pluck  from  the  memory  a rooted  sorrow, 

Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain. 

And,  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote. 

Cleanse  the  foul  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff, 

Which  weighs  upon  the  heart 

Here  a simple  idea,  by  a process  which  belongs  to  the 
orator  rather  than  to  the  poet,  but  still  comes  from  the 
native  vigour  of  genius,  is  expanded  into  a many-mem- 
bered  period. 


Literature. 


281 


The  following  from  Hamlet  is  of  the  same  kind  : — 

Tis  not  alone  my  inky  cloak,  good  mother, 

Nor  customary  suits  of  solemn  black, 

Nor  windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath. 

No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye. 

Nor  the  dejected  haviour  of  the  visage, 

Together  with  all  forms,  modes,  shows  of  grief. 

That  can  denote  me  truly. 

Now,  if  such  declamation,  for  declamation  it  is,  how- 
ever noble,  be  allowable  in  a poet,  whose  genius  is  so  far 
removed  from  pompousness  or  pretence,  much  more  is 
it  allowable  in  an  orator,  whose  very  province  it  is  to 
put  forth  words  to  the  best  advantage  he  can.  Cicero 
has  nothing  more  redundant  in  any  part  of  his  writings 
than  these  passages  from  Shakespeare.  No  lover  then 
at  least  of  Shakespeare  may  fairly  accuse  Cicero  of 
gorgeousness  of  phraseology  or  diffuseness  of  style. 
Nor  will  any  sound  critic  be  tempted  to  do  so.  As  a 
certain  unaffected  neatness  and  propriety  and  grace  of 
diction  may  be  required  of  any  author  who  lays  claim  to 
be  a classic,  for  the  same  reason  that  a certain  attention 
to  dress  is  expected  of  every  gentleman,  so  to  Cicero 
may  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  the  os  magna  sona- 
turum,'’  of  which  the  ancient  critic  speaks.  His  copious, 
majestic,  musical  flow  of  language,  even  if  sometimes 
beyond  what  the  subject-matter  demands,  is  never  out 
of  keeping  with  the  occasion  or  with  the  speaker.  It  is 
the  expression  of  lofty  sentiments  in  lofty  sentences,  the 
mens  magna  in  corpore  magno.”  It  is  the  develop- 
ment of  the  inner  man.  Cicero  vividly  realised  the 
status  of  a Roman  senator  and  statesman,  and  the 
pride  of  place*'  of  Rome,  in  all  the  grace  and  grandeur 
which  attached  to  her  j and  he  imbibed,  and  becain^> 


282 


Literature. 


what  he  admired.  As  the  exploits  of  Scipio  or  Pompey 
are  the  expression  of  this  greatness  in  deed,  so  the 
language  of  Cicero  is  the  expression  of  it  in  word.  And, 
as  the  acts  of  the  Roman  ruler  or  soldier  represent  to  us, 
in  a manner  special  to  themselves,  the  characteristic 
magnanimity  of  the  lords  of  the  earth,  so  do  the 
speeches  or  treatises  of  her  accomplished  orator  bring  it 
home  to  our  imaginations  as  no  other  writing  could  do. 
Neither  Livy,  nor  Tacitus,  nor  Terence,  nor  Seneca,  nor 
Pliny,  nor  Quintilian,  is  an  adequate  spokesman  for 
the  Imperial  City.  They  write  Latin ; Cicero  writes 
Roman. 

6. 

You  will  say  that  Cicero's  language  is  undeniably 
studied,  but  that  Shakespeare's  is  as  undeniably  natural 
and  spontaneous  ; and  that  this  is  what  is  meant,  when 
the  Classics  are  accused  of  being  mere  artists  of  words* 
Here  we  are  introduced  to  a further  large  question, 
which  gives  me  the  opportunity  of  anticipating  a misap- 
prehension of  my  meaning.  I observe,  then,  that,  not 
only  is  that  lavish  richness  of  style,  which  I have  noticed 
in  Shakespeare,  justifiable  on  the  principles  which  I have 
been  laying  down,  but,  what  is  less  easy  to  receive,  even 
elaborateness  in  composition  is  no  mark  of  trick  or 
artifice  in  an  author.  Undoubtedly  the  works  of  the 
Classics,  particularly  the  Latin,  are  elaborate  ; they  have 
cost  a great  deal  of  time,  care,  and  trouble.  They  have 
had  many  rough  copies ; I grant  it.  I grant  also  that 
there  are  writers  of  name>  ancient  and  modern,  who  really 
are  guilty  of  the  absurdity  of  making  sentences,  as  the 
very  end  of  their  literary  labour.  Such  was  Isocrates ; 
such  were  some  of  the  sophists  ; they  were  set  on  words, 
to  the  neglect  of  thoughts  or  things;  I cannot  defend  them. 


Literature. 


283 


If  I must  give  an  English  instance  of  this  fault,  much  as 
I love  and  revere  the  personal  character  and  intellectual 
vigour  of  Dr.  Johnson,  I cannot  deny  that  his  style  often 
outruns  the  sense  and  the  occasion,  and  is  wanting  in 
that  simplicity  which  is  the  attribute  of  genius.  Still, 
granting  all  this,  I cannot  grant,  notwithstanding,  that 
genius  never  need  take  pains, — that  genius  may  not  im- 
prove by  practice, — that  it  never  incurs  failures,  and 
succeeds  the  second  time, — that  it  never  finishes  off  at 
leisure  what  it  has  thrown  off  in  the  outline  at  a stroke. 

Take  the  instance  of  the  painter  or  the  sculptor  ; he 
has  a conception  in  his  mind  which  he  wishes  to  repre- 
sent in  the  medium  of  his  art ; — the  Madonna  and  Child, 
or  Innocence,  or  Fortitude,  or  some  historical  character 
or  event.  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  does  not  study  his 
subject } does  he  not  make  sketches  ? does  he  not  even 
call  them  studies”  ? does  he  not  call  his  workroom 
a studio  f is  he  not  ever  designing,  rejecting,  adopting, 
correcting,  perfecting } Are  not  the  first  attempts  of 
Michael  Angelo  and  Raffaelle  extant,  in  the  case  of 
some  of  their  most  celebrated  compositions  } Will  any 
one  say  that  the  Apollo  Belvidere  is  not  a conception 
patiently  elaborated  into  its  proper  perfection  } These 
departments  of  taste  are,  according  to  the  received 
notions  of  the  world,  the  very  province  of  genius,  and  yet 
we  call  them  arts;  they  are  the  “Fine  Arts.”  Why 
may  not  that  be  true  of  literary  composition  which  is  true 
of  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  and  music  ? Why 
may  not  language  be  wrought  as  well  as  the  clay  of  the 
modeller  ? why  may  not  words  be  worked  up  as  well  as 
colours  ? why  should  not  skill  in  diction  be  simply  sub- 
servient and  instrumental  to  the  great  prototypal  ideas 
which  are  the  contemplation  of  a Plato  or  a Virgil  ? 
Our  greatest  poet  tells  us, 


284 


Literature. 


‘‘The  poet’s  eye,  in  a fine  frenzy  rolling, 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven, 

And,  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet’s  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A local  habitation  and  a name.” 

Now,  is  it  wonderful  that  that  pen  of  his  should  some- 
times be  at  fault  for  a while, — that  it  should  pause, 
write,  erase,  re-write,  amend,  complete,  before  he  satisfies 
himself  that  his  language  has  done  justice  to  the 
conceptions  which  his  mind's  eye  contemplated? 

In  this  point  of  view,  doubtless,  many  or  most  writers 
are  elaborate ; and  those  certainly  not  the  least  whose 
style  is  furthest  removed  from  ornament,  being  simple 
and  natural,  or  vehement,  or  severely  business-like  and 
practical.  Who  so  energetic  and  manly  as  Demos- 
thenes? Yet  he  is  said  to  have  transcribed  Thucydides 
many  times  over  in  the  formation  of  his  style.  Who  so 
gracefully  natural  as  Herodotus  ? yet  his  very  dialect 
is  not  his  own,  but  chosen  for  the  sake  of  the  perfection 
of  his  narrative.  Who  exhibits  such  happy  negligence 
as  our  own  Addison  ? yet  artistic  fastidiousness  was  so 
notorious  in  his  instance  that  the  report  has  got  abroad, 
truly  or  not,  that  he  was  too  late  in  his  issue  of  an 
important  state-paper,  from  his  habit  of  revision  and  re- 
composition. Such  great  authors  were  working  by  a 
model  which  was  before  the  eyes  of  their  intellect,  and 
they  were  labouring  to  say  what  they  had  to  say,  in 
such  a way  as  would  most  exactly  and  suitably  express 
it.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  other  authors,  whose  style 
is  not  simple,  should  be  instances  of  a similar  literary 
diligence.  Virgil  wished  his  ^Eneid  to  be  burned, 
elaborate  as  is  its  composition,  because  he  felt  it  needed 
more  labour  still,  in  order  to  make  it  perfect  The 


Literature  ^ 


28s 


historian  Gibbon  in  the  last  century  is  another  instance 
in  point  You  must  not  suppose  I am  going  to  recom- 
mend his  style  for  imitation,  any  more  than  his  principles ; 
but  I refer  to  him  as  the  example  of  a writer  feeling  the 
task  which  lay  before  him,  feeling  that  he  had  to  bring 
out  into  words  for  the  comprehension  of  his  readers  a 
great  and  complicated  scene,  and  wishing  that  those 
words  should  be  adequate  to  his  undertaking.  I think 
he  wrote  the  first  chapter  of  his  History  three  times 
over ; it  was  not  that  he  corrected  or  improved  the  first 
copy  ; but  he  put  his  first  essay,  and  then  his  second, 
aside — he  recast  his  matter,  till  he  had  hit  the  precise 
exhibition  of  it  which  he  thought  demanded  by  his 
subject. 

Now  in  all  these  instances,  I wish  you  to  observe, 
that  what  I have  admitted  about  literary  workmanship 
differs  from  the  doctrine  which  I am  opposing  in  this, — 
that  the  mere  dealer  in  words  cares  little  or  nothing  for 
the  subject  which  he  is  embellishing,  but  can  paint  and 
gild  anything  whatever  to  order  ; whereas  the  artist, 
whom  I am  acknowledging,  has  his  great  or  rich  visions 
before  him,  and  his  only  aim  is  to  bring  out  what  he 
thinks  or  what  he  feels  in  a way  adequate  to  the  thing 
spoken  of,  and  appropriate  to  the  speaker. 

7- 

The  illustration  which  I have  been  borrowing  from 
the  Fine  Arts  will  enable  me  to  go  a step  further.  I 
have  been  showing  the  connection  of  the  thought  with 
the  language  in  literary  composition  ; and  in  doing  so 
I have  exposed  the  unphilosophical  notion,  that  the 
language  was  an  extra  which  could  be  dispensed  with, 
and  provided  to  order  according  to  the  demand.  But  I 
have  not  yet  brought  out,  what  immediately  follows 


286 


Literature. 


from  this,  and  which  was  the  second  point  which  I had 
to  show,  viz.,  that  to  be  capable  of  easy  translation  is  no 
test  of  the  excellence  of  a composition.  If  I must  say 
what  I think,  I should  lay  down,  with  little  hesitation, 
that  the  truth  was  almost  the  reverse  of  this  doctrine. 
Nor  are  many  words  required  to  show  it.  Such  a 
doctrine,  as  is  contained  in  the  passage  of  the  author 
whom  I quoted  when  I began,  goes  upon  the  assumption 
that  one  language  is  just  like  another  language, — that 
every  language  has  all  the  ideas,  turns  of  thought, 
delicacies  of  expression,  figures,  associations,  abstractions, 
points  of  view,  which  every  other  language  has.  Now, 
as  far  as  regards  Science,  it  is  true  that  all  languages 
are  pretty  much  alike  for  the  purposes  of  Science  ; but 
even  in  this  respect  some  are  more  suitable  than 
others,  which  have  to  coin  words,  or  to  borrow  them,  in 
order  to  express  scientific  ideas.  But  if  languages  are 
not  all  equally  adapted  even  to  furnish  symbols  for 
those  universal  and  eternal  truths  in  which  Science  con- 
sists, how  can  they  reasonably  be  expected  to  be  all 
equally  rich,  equally  forcible,  equally  musical,  equally 
exact,  equally  happy  in  expressing  the  idiosyncratic 
peculiarities  of  thought  of  some  original  and  fertile  mind, 
who  has  availed  himself  of  one  of  them  ? A great 
author  takes  his  native  language,  masters  it,  partly 
throws  himself  into  it,  partly  moulds  and  adapts  it,  and 
pours  out  his  multitude  of  ideas  through  the  variously 
ramified  and  delicately  minute  channels  of  expression 
which  he  has  found  or  framed  : — does  it  follow  that  this 
his  personal  presence  (as  it  may  be  called)  can  forth- 
with be  transferred  to  every  other  language  under  the 
sun  ? Then  may  we  reasonably  maintain  that  Beeth- 
oven’s piano  music  is  not  really  beautiful,  because  it 
cannot  be  played  on  the  hurdy-gurdy.  Were  not  this 


Literature, 


287 


astonishing  doctrine  maintained  by  persons  tar  superior 
to  the  writer  whom  I have  selected  for  animadversion,  I 
should  find  it  difficult  to  be  patient  under  a gratuitous 
extravagance.  It  seems  that  a really  great  author  must 
admit  of  translation,  and  that  we  have  a test  of  his  excel- 
lence when  he  reads  to  advantage  in  a foreign  language 
as  well  as  in  his  own.  Then  Shakespeare  is  a genius  be- 
cause he  can  be  translated  into  German,  and  not  a genius 
because  he  cannot  be  translated  into  French.  Then  the 
multiplication-table  is  the  most  gifted  of  all  conceivable 
compositions,  because  it  loses  nothing  by  translation,  and 
can  hardly  be  said  to  belong  to  any  one  language  what- 
ever. Whereas  I should  rather  have  conceived  that,  in 
proportion  as  ideas  are  novel  and  recondite,  they  would 
be  difficult  to  put  into  words,  and  that  the  very  fact  of 
their  having  insinuated  themselves  into  one  language 
would  diminish  the  chance  of  that  happy  accident  being 
repeated  in  another.  In  the  language  of  savages  you 
can  hardly  express  any  idea  or  act  of  the  intellect  at 
all : is  the  tongue  of  the  Hottentot  or  Esquimaux  to 
be  made  the  measure  of  the  genius  of  Plato,  Pindar, 
Tacitus,  St.  Jerome,  Dante,  or  Cervantes 

Let  us  recur,  I say,  to  the  illustration  of  the  Fine 
Arts.  I suppose  you  can  express  ideas  in  painting 
which  you  cannot  express  in  sculpture ; and  the  more 
an  artist  is  of  a painter,  the  less  he  is  likely  to  be  of 
a sculptor.  The  more  he  commits  his  genius  to  the 
methods  and  conditions  of  his  own  art,  the  less  he  will 
be  able  to  throw  himself  into  the  circumstances  of 
another.  Is  the  genius  of  Fra  Angelico,  of  Francia,  or 
of  Rafifaelle  disparaged  by  the  fact  that  he  was  able  to 
do  that  in  colours  which  no  man  that  ever  lived,  which 
no  Angel,  could  achieve  in  wood  } Each  of  the  Fine 
Arts  has  its  own  subject-matter;  from  the  nature  of  the 


288 


Literature. 


case  you  can  do  in  one  what  you  cannot  do  in  another ; 
you  can  do  in  painting  what  you  cannot  do  in  carving ; 
you  can  do  in  oils  what  you  cannot  do  in  fresco ; you 
can  do  in  marble  what  you  cannot  do  in  ivory ; you  can 
do  in  wax  what  you  cannot  do  in  bronze.  Then,  I 
repeat,  applying  this  to  the  case  of  languages,  why 
should  not  genius  be  able  to  do  in  Greek  what  it  cannot 
do  in  Latin  ? and  why  are  its  Greek  and  Latin  works 
defective  because  they  will  not  turn  into  English  ? That 
genius,  of  which  we  are  speaking,  did  not  make  English  ; 
it  did  not  make  all  languages,  present,  past,  and  future  ; 
it  did  not  make  the  laws  of  any  language  : why  is  it  to 
be  judged  of  by  that  in  which  it  had  no  part,  over  which 
it  has  no  control  ? 


8. 

And  now  we  are  naturally  brought  on  to  our  third 
point,  which  is  on  the  characteristics  of  Holy  Scripture 
as  compared  with  profane  literature.  Hitherto  we  have 
been  concerned  with  the  doctrine  of  these  writers,  viz., 
that  style  is  an  extra,  that  it  is  a mere  artifice,  and  that 
hence  it  cannot  be  translated ; now  we  come  to  their 
fact,  viz.,  that  Scripture  has  no  such  artificial  style,  and 
that  Scripture  can  easily  be  translated.  Surely  their 
fact  is  as  untenable  as  their  doctrine. 

Scripture  easy  of  translation ! then  why  have  there 
been  so  few  good  translators  ? why  is  it  that  there 
has  been  such  great  difficulty  in  combining  the  two 
necessary  qualities,  fidelity  to  the  original  and  purity  in 
the  adopted  vernacular?  why  is  it  that  the  author- 
ized versions  of  the  Church  are  often  so  inferior  to 
the  original  as  compositions,  except  that  the  Church 
is  bound  above  all  things  to  see  that  the  version  is  doc- 
trinally  correct,  and  in  a difficult  problem  is  obliged  to 


Literature. 


289 


put  up  with  defects  in  what  is  of  secondary  importance, 
provided  she  secure  what  is  of  first  ? If  it  were  so 
easy  to  transfer  the  beauty  of  the  original  to  the  copy, 
she  would  not  have  been  content  with  her  received 
version  in  various  languages  which  could  be  named. 

And  then  in  the  next  place.  Scripture  not  elaborate ! 
Scripture  not  ornamented  in  diction,  and  musical  in 
cadence  ! Why,  consider  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews — 
where  is  there  in  the  classics  any  composition  more  care- 
fully, more  artificially  written  ? Consider  the  book  of 
Job — is  it  not  a sacred  drama,  as  artistic,  as  perfect, 
as  any  Greek  tragedy  of  Sophocles  or  Euripides  ? Con- 
sider the  Psalter — are  there  no  ornaments,  no  rhythm,  no 
studied  cadences,  no  responsive  members,  in  that  divinely 
beautiful  book  ? And  is  it  not  hard  to  understand  ? are 
not  the  Prophets  hard  to  understand  ? is  not  St.  Paul 
hard  to  understand  ? Who  can  say  that  these  are 
popular  compositions  ? who  can  say  that  they  are  level 
at  first  reading  with  the  understandings  of  the  mul- 
titude ? 

That  there  are  portions  indeed  of  the  inspired  volume 
more  simple  both  in  style  and  in  meaning,  and  that 
these  are  the  more  sacred  and  sublime  passages,  as, 
for  instance,  parts  of  the  Gospels,  I grant  at  once  ; 
but  this  does  not  militate  against  the  doctrine  I have 
been  laying  down.  Recollect,  Gentlemen,  my  distinction 
when  I began.  I have  said  Literature  is  one  thing,  and 
that  Science  is  another ; that  Literature  has  to  do  with 
ideas,  and  Science  with  realities  ; that  Literature  is  of 
a personal  character,  that  Science  treats  of  what  is 
universal  and  eternal.  In  proportion,  then,  as  Scripture 
excludes  the  personal  colouring  of  its  writers,  and  rises 
into  the  region  of  pure  and  mere  inspiration,  when  it 
ceases  in  any  sense  to  be  the  writing  of  man,  of  St.  Paul 

19 


290 


Literature. 


or  St.  John,  of  Moses  or  Isaias,  then  it  comes  to  belong 
to  Science,  not  Literature.  Then  it  conveys  the  things 
of  heaven,  unseen  verities,  divine  manifestations,  and 
them  alone — not  the  ideas,  the  feelings,  the  aspirations, 
of  its  human  instruments,  who,  for  all  that  they  were 
inspired  and  infallible,  did  not  cease  to  be  men.  St. 
Paul’s  epistles,  then,  I consider  to  be  literature  in  a real 
and  true  sense,  as  personal,  as  rich  in  reflection  and 
emotion,  as  Demosthenes  or  Euripides ; and,  without 
ceasing  to  be  revelations  of  objective  truth,  they  are 
expressions  of  the  subjective  notwithstanding.  On  the 
other  hand,  portions  of  the  Gospels,  of  the  book  of 
Genesis,  and  other  passages  of  the  Sacred  Volume, 
are  of  the  nature  of  Science.  Such  is  the  beginning  of 
St.John’s  Gospel,  which  we  read  at  the  end  of  Mass. 
Such  is  the  Creed.  I mean,  passages  such  as  these  are 
the  mere  enunciation  of  eternal  things,  without  (so  to 
say)  the  medium  of  any  human  mind  transmitting  them 
to  us.  The  words  used  have  the  grandeur,  the  majesty, 
the  calm,  unimpassioned  beauty  of  Science  ; they  are  in 
no  sense  Literature,  they  are  in  no  sense,  personal ; and 
therefore  they  are  easy  to  apprehend,  and  easy  to 
translate. 

Did  time  admit  I could  show  you  parallel  instances  of 
what  I am  speaking  of  in  the  Classics,  inferior  to  the 
inspired  word  in  proportion  as  the  subject-matter  of  the 
classical  authors  is  immensely  inferior  to  the  subjects 
treated  of  in  Scripture — but  parallel,  inasmuch  as  the 
classical  author  or  speaker  ceases  for  the  moment  to 
have  to  do  with  Literature,  as  speaking  of  things 
objectively,  and  rises  to  the  serene  sublimity  of  Science. 
But  I should  be  carried  too  far  if  I began. 


Literature. 


291 


9- 

I shall  then  merely  sum  up  what  I have  said,  and 
come  to  a conclusion.  Reverting,  then,  to  my  original 
question,  what  is  the  meaning  of  Letters,  as  contained. 
Gentlemen,  in  the  designation  of  your  Faculty,  I have 
answered,  that  by  Letters  or  Literature  is  meant  the 
expression  of  thought  in  language,  where  by  “ thought’’ 
I mean  the  ideas,  feelings,  views,  reasonings,  and  other 
operations  of  the  human  mind.  And  the  Art  of  Letters 
is  the  method  by  which  a speaker  or  writer  brings  out 
in  words,  worthy  of  his  subject,  and  sufficient  for  his 
audience  or  readers,  the  thoughts  which  impress  him. 
Literature,  then,  is  of  a personal  character ; it  consists  in 
the  enunciations  and  teachings  of  those  who  have  a right 
to  speak  as  representatives  of  their  kind,  and  in  whose 
words  their  brethren  find  an  interpretation  of  their  own 
sentiments,  a record  of  their  own  experience,  and  a 
suggestion  for  their  own  judgments.  A great  author. 
Gentlemen,  is  not  one  who  merely  has  a copia  verboruin, 
whether  in  prose  or  verse,  and  can,  as  it  were,  turn  on  at 
his  will  any  number  of  splendid  phrases  and  swelling 
sentences  ; but  he  is  one  who  has  something  to  say  and 
knows  how  to  say  it.  I do  not  claim  for  him,  as  such, 
any  great  depth  of  thought,  or  breadth  of  view,  or 
philosophy,  or  sagacity,  or  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
or  experience  of  hurnan  life,  though  these  additional 
gifts  he  may  have,  and  the  more  he  has  of  them  the 
greater  he  is  ; but  I ascribe  to  him,  as  his  characteristic 
gift,  in  a large  sense  the  faculty  of  Expression.  He  is 
master  of  the  two-fold  Logos,  the  thought  and  the  word, 
distinct,  but  inseparable  from  each  other.  He  may,  if  so 


292 


Literature. 


be,  elaborate  his  compositions,  or  he  may  pour  out  his 
improvisations,  but  in  either  case  he  has  but  one  aim, 
which  he  keeps  steadily  before  him,  and  is  conscientious 
and  single-minded  in  fulfilling.  That  aim  is  to  give  forth 
what  he  has  within  him  ; and  from  his  very  earnestness 
it  comes  to  pass  that,  whatever  be  the  splendour  of  his 
diction  or  the  harmony  of  his  periods,  he  has  with  him 
the  charm  of  an  incommunicable  simplicity.  Whatever 
be  his  subject,  high  or  low,  he  treats  it  suitably  and  for 
its  own  sake.  If  he  is  a poet,  '^nil  molitur  ineptL'  If  he 
is  an  orator,  then  too  he  speaks,  not  only  'Mistinct^’'  and 
'' splendide,''  but  also  apt^!'  His  page  is  the  lucid 
mirror  of  his  mind  and  life — 

Quo  fit,  ut  omnis 

Votivi  pateat  veluti  descripta  tabelli 

Vita  senis.” 

He  writes  passionately,  because  he  feels  keenly ; 
forcibly,  because  he  conceives  vividly  ; he  sees  too  clearly 
to  be  vague  ; he  is  too  serious  to  be  otiose ; he  can 
analyze  his  subject,  and  therefore  he  is  rich  ; he  embraces 
it  as  a whole  and  in  its  parts,  and  therefore  he  is 
consistent ; he  has  a firm  hold  of  it,  and  therefore  he  is 
luminous.  When  his  imagination  wells  up,  it  overflows 
in  ornament ; when  his  heart  is  touched,  it  thrills  along 
his  verse.  He  always  has  the  right  word  for  the  right 
idea,  and  never  a word  too  much.  If  he  is  brief,  it  is 
because  few  words  suffice;  when  he  is  lavish  of  them,  still 
each  word  has  its  mark,  and  aids,  not  embarrasses,  the 
vigorous  march  of  his  elocution.  He  expresses  what  all 
feel,  but  all  cannot  say ; and  his  sayings  pass  into 
proverbs  among  his  people,  and  his  phrases  become 
household  words  and  idioms  of  their  daily  speech,  which 


Literature, 


^93 


is  tesselated  with  the  rich  fragments  of  his  language, 
as  we  see  in  foreign  lands  the  marbles  of  Roman  gran- 
deur worked  into  the  walls  and  pavements  of  modern 
palaces. 

Such  pre-eminently  is  Shakespeare  among  ourselves  ; 
such  pre-eminently  Virgil  among  the  Latins ; such  in 
their  degree  are  all  those  writers  who  in  every  nation 
go  by  the  name  of  Classics.  To  particular  nations  they 
are  necessarily  attached  from  the  circumstance  of  the 
variety  of  tongues,  and  the  peculiarities  of  each  ; but  so 
far  they  have  a catholic  and  ecumenical  character,  that 
what  they  express  is  common  to  the  whole  race  of  man, 
and  they  alone  are  able  to  express  it. 


lO. 

If  then  the  power  of  speech  is  a gift  as  great  as  any 
that  can  be  named, — if  the  origin  of  language  is  by 
many  philosophers  even  considered  to  be  nothing  short 
of  divine, — if  by  means  of  words  the  secrets  of  the  heart 
are  brought  to  light,  pain  of  soul  is  relieved,  hidden 
grief  is  carried  off,  sympathy  conveyed,  counsel  imparted, 
experience  recorded,  and  wisdom  perpetuated, — if  by 
great  authors  the  many  are  drawn  up  into  unity,  na- 
tional character  is  fixed,  a people  speaks,  the  past  and 
the  future,  the  East  and  the  West  are  brought  into 
communication  with  each  other, — if  such  men  are,  in  a 
word,  the  spokesmen  and  prophets  of  the  human  family, 
— it  will  not  answer  to  make  light  of  Literature  or 
to  neglect  its  study ; rather  we  may  be  sure  that,  in 
proportion  as  we  master  it  in  whatever  language,  and 
imbibe  its  spirit,  we  shall  ourselves  become  in  our 
own  measure  the  ministers  of  like  benefits  to  others, 


294 


Literature. 


be  they  many  or  few,  be  they  in  the  obscurer  or  the  more 
distinguished  walks  of  life, — who  are  united  to  us  by 
social  ties,  and  are  within  the  sphere  of  our  personal 
influence. 


^95 


III. 

ENGLISH  CATHOLIC  LITERATURE. 

ONE  of  the  special  objects  which  a Catholic  Uni- 
versity would  promote  is  that  of  the  formation 
of  a Catholic  Literature  in  the  English  language.  It  is  an 
object,  however,  which  must  be  understood  before  it 
can  be  suitably  prosecuted  ; and  which  will  not  be 
understood  without  some  discussion  and  investigation. 
First  ideas  on  the  subject  must  almost  necessarily  be 
crude.  The  real  state  of  the  case,  what  is  desirable, 
what  is  possible,  has  to  be  ascertained  ; and  then  what 
has  to  be  done,  and  what  is  to  be  expected.  We  have 
seen  in  public  matters,  for  half  a year  past,*  to  what 
mistakes,  and  to  what  disappointments,  the  country 
has  been  exposed,  from  not  having  been  able  distinctly 
to  put  before  it  what  was  to  be  aimed  at  by  its  fleets  and 
armies,  what  was  practicable,  what  was  probable,  in 
operations  of  war : and  so,  too,  in  the  field  of  literature, 
we  are  sure  of  falling  into  a parallel  perplexity  and 
dissatisfaction,  if  we  start  with  a vague  notion  of  doing 
something  or  other  important  by  means  of  a Catholic 
University,  without  having  the  caution  to  examine  what 
is  feasible,  and  what  is  unnecessary  or  hopeless.  Ac- 
cordingly, it  is  natural  I should  wish  to  direct  attention 
to  this  subject,  even  though  it  be  too  difficult  to  handle 
in  any  exact  or  complete  way,  and  though  my  attempt 
must  be  left  for  others  to  bring  into  a more  perfect  shape, 
who  are  more  fitted  for  the  task. 

Here  I shall  chiefly  employ  myself  in  investigating 
what  the  object  is  not, 

♦ August,  1854. 


2gb 


§.  I.  In  its  relation  to  Religious  Literature. 

X^7HEN  a ''Catholic  Literature  in  the  English 
V V tongue^'  is  spoken  of  as  a desideratum,  no  reason- 
able person  will  mean  by  " Catholic  works”  much  more 
than  the  " works  of  Catholics.”  The  phrase  does  not 
mean  a religious  literature.  " Religious  Literature” 
indeed  would  mean  much  more  than  " the  Literature  of 
religious  men  ; ” it  means  over  and  above  this,  that  the 
subject-matter  of  the  Literature  is  religious ; but  by 
" Catholic  Literature”  is  not  to  be  understood  a litera- 
ture which  treats  exclusively  or  primarily  of  Catholic 
matters,  of  Catholic  doctrine,  controversy,  history,  per- 
sons^ or  politics  ; but  it  includes  all  subjects  of  literature 
whatever,  treated  as  a Catholic  would  treat  them,  and 
as  he  only  can  treat  them.  Why  it  is  important  to  have 
them  treated  by  Catholics  hardly  need  be  explained 
here,  though  something  will  be  incidentally  said  on  the 
point  as  we  proceed : meanwhile  I am  drawing  atten- 
tion to  the  distinction  between  the  two  phrases  in  order 
to  avoid  a serious  misapprehension.  For  it  is  evident 
that,  if  by  a Catholic  Literature  were  meant  nothing 
more  or  less  than  a religious  literature,  its  writers  would 
be  mainly  ecclesiastics ; just  as  writers  on  Law  are 
mainly  lawyers,  and  writers  on  Medicine  are  mainly 
physicians  or  surgeons.  And  if  this  be  so,  a Catholic 
Literature  is  no  object  special  to  a University,  unless  a 
University  is  to  be  considered  identical  with  a Seminary 
or  a Theological  School 


English  Catholic  Literature,  2gy 

I am  not  denying  that  a University  might  prove  of  the 
greatest  benefit  even  to  our  religious  literature ; doubt- 
less it  would,  and  in  various  ways  ; still  it  is  concerned 
with  Theology  only  as  one  great  subject  of  thought,  as  the 
greatest  indeed  which  can  occupy  the  human  mind,  yet 
not  as  the  adequate  or  direct  scope  of  its  institution. 
Yet  I suppose  it  is  not  impossible  for  a literary  layman 
to  wince  at  the  idea,  and  to  shrink  from  the  proposal, 
of  taking  part  in  a scheme  for  the  formation  of  a Catholic 
Literature,  under  the  apprehension  that  in  some  way  or 
another  he  will  be  entangling  himself  in  a semi-clerical 
occupation.  It  is  not  uncommon,  on  expressing  an 
anticipation  that  the  Professors  of  a Catholic  University 
will  promote  a Catholic  Literature,  to  have  to  encounter 
a vague  notion  that  a lecturer  or  writer  so  employed 
must  have  something  polemical  about  him,  must 
moralize  or  preach,  must  (in  Protestant  language) 
inip7^ove  the  occasion ^ though  his  subject  is  not  at  all  a 
religious  one ; in  short,  that  he  must  do  something  else 
besides  fairly  and  boldly  go  right  on,  and  be  a Catholic 
speaking  as  a Catholic  spontaneously  will  speak,  on  the 
Classics,  or  Fine  Arts,  or  Poetry,  or  whatever  he  has 
taken  in  hand.  Men  think  that  he  cannot  give  a lecture 
on  Comparative  Anatomy  without  being  bound  to 
digress  into  the  Argument  from  Final  Causes  ; that  he 
cannot  recount  the  present  geological  theories  without 
forcing  them  into  an  interpretation  seriatim  of  the  first 
two  chapters  of  Genesis.  Many,  indeed,  seem  to  go 
further  still,  and  actually  pronounce  that,  since  our  own 
University  has  been  recommended  by  the  Holy  See,  and 
is  established  by  the  Hierarchy,  it  cannot  but  be  engaged 
in  teaching  religion  and  nothing  else,  and  must  and  will 
have  the  discipline  of  a Seminary ; which  is  about  as 
sensible  and  logical  a view  of  the  matter  as  it  would  be 


/ 


2g8  English  Catholic  Literature, 

to  maintain  that  the  Prime  Minister  ipso  facto  holds  an 
ecclesiastical  office,  since  he  is  always  a P/otestant ; or 
that  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  must  neces- 
sarily have  been  occupied  in  clerical  duties,  as  long  as 
they  took  an  oath  about  Transubstantiation.  Catholic 
Literature  is  not  synonymous  with  Theology,  nor  does  it 
supersede  or  interfere  with  the  work  of  catechists,  divines, 
preachers,  or  schoolmen. 


299 


§,  2.  In  its  relatio7i  to  Science. 

I. 

And  next,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  when  we 
aim  at  providing  a Catholic  Literature  for  Catholics, 
in  place  of  an  existing  literature  which  is  of  a marked 
Protestant  character,  we  do  not,  strictly  speaking, 
include  the  pure  sciences  in  our  desideratum.  Not  that 
we  should  not  feel  pleased  and  proud  to  find  Catholics 
distinguish  themselves  in  publications  on  abstract  or 
experimental  philosophy,  on  account  of  the  honour  it 
does  to  our  religion  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  ; — not  that 
we  are  insensible  to  the  congruity  and  respectability  of 
depending  in  these  matters  on  ourselves,  and  not  on 
others,  at  least  as  regards  our  text-books  ; — not  that  we 
do  not  confidently  anticipate  that  Catholics  of  these 
countries  will  in  time  to  come  be  able  to  point  to 
authorities  and  discoverers  in  science  of  their  own,  equal 
to  those  of  Protestant  England,  Germany,  or  Sweden  ; — 
but  because,  as  regards  mathematics,  chemistry,  as- 
tronomy, and  similar  subjects,  one  man  will  not,  on  the 
score  of  his  religion,  treat  of  them  better  than  another, 
and  because  the  works  of  even  an  unbeliever  or  idolator, 
while  he  kept  within  the  strict  range  of  such  studies, 
might  be  safely  admitted  into  Catholic  lecture-rooms, 
and  put  without  scruple  into  the  hands  of  Catholic  youths. 
There  is  no  crying  demand,  no  imperative  necessity, 
for  our  acquisition  of  a Catholic  Euclid  or  a Catholic 
Newton.  The  object  of  all  science  is  truth  ; — the  pure 


300  E^iglish  Catholic  Literature. 

sciences  proceed  to  their  enunciations  from  principles 
which  the  intellect  discerns  by  a natural  light,  and  by 
a process  recognized  by  natural  reason  ; and  the  experi- 
mental sciences  investigate  facts  by  methods  of  analysis 
or  by  ingenious  expedients,  ultimately  resolvable  into 
instruments  of  thought  equally  native  to  the  human 
mind.  If  then  we  may  assume  that  there  is  an  objective 
truth,  and  that  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind  is 
in  correspondence  with  it,  and  acts  truly  when  it  acts 
according  to  its  own  laws  ; if  we  may  assume  that  God 
made  us,  and  that  what  He  made  is  good,  and  that 
no  action  from  and  according  to  nature  can  in  itself  be 
evil ; it  will  follow  that,  so  long  as  it  is  man  who  is  the 
geometrician,  or  natural  philosopher,  or  mechanic,  or 
critic,  no  matter  what  man  he  be,  Hindoo,  Mahometan, 
or  infidel,  his  conclusions  within  his  own  science,  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  that  science,  are  unquestionable,  and 
not  to  be  suspected  by  Catholics,  unless  Catholics  may 
legitimately  be  jealous  of  fact  and  truth,  of  divine 
principles  and  divine  creations. 

I have  been  speaking  of  the  scientific  treatises  or 
investigations  of  those  who  are  not  Catholics,  to  which 
the  subject  of  Literature  leads  me  ; but  I might  even  go 
on  to  speak  of  them  in  their  persons  as  well  as  in  their 
books.  Were  it  not  for  the  scandal  which  they  would 
create  ; were  it  not  for  the  example  they  would  set ; 
were  it  not  for  the  certain  tendency  of  the  human  mind 
involuntarily  to  outleap  the  strict  boundaries  of  an 
abstract  science,  and  to  teach  it  upon  extraneous  princi- 
ples, to  embody  it  in  concrete  examples,  and  to  carry  it 
on  to  practical  conclusions  ; above  all,  were  it  not  for 
the  indirect  influence,  and  living  energetic  presence,  and 
collateral  duties,  which  accompany  a Professor  in  a great 
school  of  learning,  I do  not  see  (abstracting  from  him,  I 


English  Catholic  Literature,  301 

repeat,  in  hypothesis,  what  never  could  possibly  be 
abstracted  from  him  in  fact),  why  the  chair  of  Astronomy 
in  a Catholic  University  should  not  be  filled  by  a La 
Place,  or  that  of  Physics  by  a Humboldt.  Whatever 
they  might  wish  to  say,  still,  while  they  kept  to  their 
own  science,  they  would  be  unable,  like  the  heathen 
Prophet  in  Scripture,  to  ‘‘  go  beyond  the  word  of  the 
Lord,  to  utter  any  thing  of  their  own  head.'' 


2. 

So  far  the  arguments  hold  good  of  certain  celebrated 
writers  in  a Northern  Review,  who,  in  their  hostility  to 
the  principle  of  dogmatic  teaching,  seem  obliged  to 
maintain,  because  subject-matters  are  distinct,  that 
living  opinions  are  distinct  too,  and  that  men  are 
abstractions  as  well  as  their  respective  sciences.  On 
the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  August,  in  the  year 
1704,"  says  a justly  celebrated  author,  in  illustration  and 
defence  of  the  anti-dogmatic  principle  in  political  and 
social  matters,  two  great  captains,  equal  in  authority, 
united  by  close  private  and  public  ties,  but  of  different 
creeds,  prepared  for  battle,  on  the  event  of  which  were 
staked  the  liberties  of  Europe.  . . Marlborough  gave 
orders  for  public  prayers  ; the  English  chaplains  read 
the  service  at  the  head  of  the  English  regiments  ; the 
Calvinistic  chaplains  of  the  Dutch  army,  with  heads  on 
which  hand  of  Bishop  had  never  been  laid,  poured  forth 
their  supplications  in  front  of  their  countrymen.  In  the 
meantime  the  Danes  might  listen  to  the  Lutheran 
ministers ; and  Capuchins  might  encourage  the  Austrian 
squadrons,  and  pray  to  the  Virgin  for  a blessing  on  the 
arms  of  the  holy  Roman  Empire.  The  battle  com- 
mences ; these  men  of  various  religions  all  act  like 
members  of  one  body : the  Catholic  and  the  Protestant 


302  English  Catholic  Literature. 

generals  exert  themselves  to  assist  and  to  surpass  each 
other  ; before  sunset  the  Empire  is  saved  ; France  has 
lost  in  a day  the  fruits  of  eight  years  of  intrigue  and  of 
victory  ; and  the  allies,  after  conquering  together,  return 
thanks  to  God  separately,  each  after  his  own  form  of 
worship/^  * 

The  writer  of  this  lively  passage  would  be  doubtless 
unwilling  himself  to  carry  out  the  principle  which  it 
insinuates  to  those  extreme  conclusions  to  which  it  is 
often  pushed  by  others,  in  matters  of  education.  Viewed 
in  itself,  viewed  in  the  abstract,  that  principle  is  simply, 
undeniably  true ; and  is  only  sophistical  when  it  is 
carried  out  in  practical  matters  at  all.  A religious 
opinion,  though  not  formally  recognized,  cannot  fail  of 
influencing  in  fact  the  school,  or  society,  or  polity  in 
which  it  is  found ; though  in  the  abstract  that  opinion 
is  one  thing,  and  the  school,  society,  or  polity,  another. 
Here  were  Episcopalians,  Lutherans,  Calvinists,  and 
Catholics  found  all  fighting  on  one  side,  it  is  true,  with- 
out any  prejudice  to  their  respective  religious  tenets  : 
and,  certainly,  I never  heard  that  in  a battle  soldiers 
did  do  any  thing  else  but  fight.  I did  not  know  they 
had  time  for  going  beyond  the  matter  in  hand  ; yet, 
even  as  regards  this  very  illustration  which  he  has 
chosen,  if  we  were  bound  to  decide  by  it  the  contro- 
versy, it  does  so  happen  that  that  danger  of  interference 
and  collision  between  opposite  religionists  actually  does 
occur  upon  a campaign,  which  could  not  be  incurred  in  a 
battle  : and  at  this  very  time  some  jealousy  or  disgust 
has  been  shown  in  English  popular  publications,  when 
they  have  had  to  record  that  our  ally,  the  Emperor  of 
the  French,  has  sent  his  troops,  who  are  serving  with 
the  British  against  the  Russians,  to  attend  High  Mass, 

* Macaulay’s  Essays. 


English  Catholic  Literature.  303 

or  has  presented  his  sailors  with  a picture  of  the 
Madonna. 

If,  then,  we  could  have  Professors  who  were  mere 
abstractions  and  phantoms,  marrowless  in  their  bones, 
and  without  speculation  in  their  eyes  ; or  if  they  could 
only  open  their  mouths  on  their  own  special  subject,  and 
in  their  scientific  pedantry  were  dead  to  the  world  ; if 
they  resembled  the  well  known  character  in  the  Romance, 
who  was  so  imprisoned  or  fossilized  in  his  erudition, 
that,  though  he  stirred  the  fire  with  some  address,” 
nevertheless,  on  attempting  to  snuff  the  candles,  he 
‘‘  was  unsuccessful,  and  relinquished  that  ambitious  post 
of  courtesy,  after  having  twice  reduced  the  parlour  to 
total  darkness,”  then  indeed  Voltaire  himself  might  be 
admitted,  not  without  scandal,  but  without  risk,  to  lecture 
on  astronomy  or  galvanism  in  Catholic,  or  Protestant, 
or  Presbyterian  Colleges,  or  in  all  of  them  at  once;  and 
we  should  have  no  practical  controversy  with  philoso- 
phers who,  after  the  fashion  of  the  author  I have  been 
quoting,  are  so  smart  in  proving  that  we,  who  differ  from 
them,  must  needs  be  so  bigotted  and  puzzle-headed. 

And  in  strict  conformity  with  these  obvious  distinc- 
tions, it  will  be  found  that,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to 
reduce  scientific  men  of  anti-Catholic  opinions  to  the 
type  of  the  imaginary  bookworm  to  whom  I have  been 
alluding,  we  do  actually  use  them  in  our  schools.  We 
allow  our  Catholic  student  to  use  them,  so  far  as  he  can 
surprise  them  (if  I may  use  the  expression),  in  their 
formal  treatises,  and  can  keep  them  close  prisoners  there. 

Vix  defessa  senem  passus  componere  membra. 

Cum  clamore  ruit  magno,  manicisque  jacentem 
Occupat. 

The  fisherman,  in  the  Arabian  tale,  took  no  harm  from 


304  English  Catholic  Literature. 

the  genius,  till  he  let  him  out  from  the  brass  bottle  in 
which  he  was  confined.  He  examined  the  vessel  and 
shook  it,  to  see  if  what  was  within  made  any  noise,  but 
he  heard  nothing.”  All  was  safe  till  he  had  succeeded 
in  opening  it,  and  then  came  out  a very  thick  smoke, 
which,  ascending  to  the  clouds  and  extending  itself 
along  the  sea  shore  in  a thick  mist,  astonished  him  very 
much.  After  a time  the  smoke  collected,  and  was  con- 
verted into  a genius  of  enormous  height.  At  the  sight 
of  this  monster,  whose  head  appeared  to  reach  the 
clouds,  the  fisherman  trembled  with  fear.”  Such  is  the 
difference  between  an  unbelieving  or  heretical  philoso- 
pher in  person,  and  in  the  mere  disquisitions  proper  to  his 
science.  Porson  was  no  edifying  companion  for  young 
men  of  eighteen,  nor  are  his  letters  on  the  text  of  the 
Three  Heavenly  Witnesses  to  be  recommended  ; but 
that  does  not  hinder  his  being  admitted  into  Catholic 
schools,  while  he  is  confined  within  the  limits  of  his  Pre- 
face to  the  Hecuba.  Franklin  certainly  would  have 
been  intolerable  in  person,  if  he  began  to  talk  freely, 
and  throw  out,  as  I think  he  did  in  private,  that  each 
solar  system  had  its  own  god ; but  such  extravagances 
of  so  able  a man  do  not  interfere  with  the  honour  we 
justly  pay  his  name  in  the  history  of  experimental 
science.  Nay,  the  great  Newton  himself  would  have 
been  silenced  in  a Catholic  University,  when  he  got 
upon  the  Apocalypse  ; yet  is  that  any  reason  why  we 
should  not  study  his  Principia,  or  avail  ourselves  of  the 
wonderful  analysis  which  he,  Protestant  as  he  was, 
originated,  and  which  French  infidels  have  developed  ? 
We  are  glad,  for  their  own  sakes,  that  anti-CathoHc 
writers  should,  in  their  posthumous  influence,  do  as 
much  real  service  to  the  human  race  as  ever  they  can, 
and  we  have  no  wish  to  interfere  with  it. 


English  Catholic  Literature. 


305 


3. 

Returning,  then,  to  the  point  from  which  we  set  out,  I 
observe  that,  this  being  the  state  of  the  case  as  regards 
abstract  science,  viz.,  that  we  have  no  quarrel  with  its 
anti-Catholic  commentators,  till  they  thrust  their  persons 
into  our  Chairs,  or  their  popular  writings  into  our  read- 
ing-rooms, it  follows  that,  when  we  contemplate  the 
formation  of  a Catholic  Literature,  we  do  not  consider 
scientific  works  as  among  our  most  prominent  desiderata. 
They  are  to  be  looked  for,  not  so  much  for  their  own 
sake,  as  because  they  are  indications  that  we  have  able 
scientific  men  in  our  communion ; for  if  we  have  such, 
they  will  be  certain  to  write,  and  in  proportion  as  they 
increase  in  number  will  there  be  the  chance  of  really 
profound,  original,  and  standard  books  issuing  from  our 
Lecture-rooms  and  Libraries.  But,  after  all,  there  is  no 
reason  why  these  should  be  better  than  those  which  we 
have  already  received  from  Protestants  ; though  it  is  at 
once  more  becoming  and  more  agreeable  to  our  feelings 
to  use  books  of  our  own,  instead  of  being  indebted  to 
the  books  of  others. 

Literature,  then,  is  not  synonymous  with  Science  ; 
nor  does  Catholic  education  imply  the  exclusion  of 
works  of  abstract  reasoning,  or  of  physical  experiment, 
or  the  like,  though  written  by  persons  of  another  or  of 
no  communion. 

There  is  another  consideration  in  point  here,  or  rather 
prior  to  what  I have  been  saying ; and  that  is,  that, 
considering  certain  scientific  works,  those  on  Criticism, 
for  instance,  are  so  often  written  in  a technical  phrase- 
ology, and  since  others,  as  mathematical,  deal  so  largely 
in  signs,  symbols,  and  figures,  which  belong  to  all  lan- 
guages, these  abstract  studies  cannot  properly  be  said  to 

20 


3o6  English  Catholic  Literature, 

fall  under  English  Literature  at  all ; — for  by  Literature 
I understand  Thought,  conveyed  under  the  forms  of 
some  particular  language.  And  this  brings  me  to  speak 
of  Literature  in  its  highest  and  most  genuine  sense,  viz., 
as  an  historical  and  national  fact;  and  I fear,  in  this 
sense  of  the  word  also,  it  is  altogether  beside  or  beyond 
any  object  which  a Catholic  University  can  reasonably 
contemplate,  at  least  in  any  moderate  term  of  years  ; 
but  so  large  a subject  here  opens  upon  us  that  I must 
postpone  it  to  another  Section. 


307 


§.  3*  ^ relation  to  Classical  Literature, 

I. 

I HAVE  been  directing  the  reader’s  attention,  first 
to  what  v/e  do  not,  and  next  to  what  we  need  not 
contemplate,  when  we  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  formation 
of  an  English  Catholic  Literature.  I said  that  our 
object  was  neither  a library  of  theological  nor  of  scien- 
tific knowledge,  though  theology  in  its  literary  aspect, 
and  abstract  science  as  an  exercise  of  intellect,  have 
both  of  course  a place  in  the  Catholic  encyclopaedia, 
One  undertaking,  however,  there  is,  which  not  merely 
does  not,  and  need  not,  but  unhappily  cannot,  come  into 
the  reasonable  contemplation  of  any  set  of  persons, 
whether  members  of  a University  or  not,  who  are  desi- 
rous of  Catholicizing  the  English  language,  as  is  very 
evident ; and  that  is  simply  the  creation  of  an  English 
Classical  Liter aturCy  for  that  has  been  done  long  ago, 
and  would  be  a work  beyond  the  powers  of  any  body  of 
men,  even  if  it  had  still  to  be  done.  If  I insist  on  this 
point  here,  no  one  must  suppose  I do  not  consider  it  to 
be  self-evident ; for  I shall  not  be  aiming  at  proving  it,  so 
much  as  at  bringing  it  home  distinctly  to  the  mind,  that 
we  may,  one  and  all,  have  a clearer  perception  of  the 
state  of  things  with  which  we  have  to  deal.  There  is 
many  an  undeniable  truth  which  is  not  practically  felt 
and  appreciated  ; and,  unless  we  master  our  position  in 
the  matter  before  us,  we  may  be  led  oft'  into  various 
wild  imaginations  or  impossible  schemes,  which  will,  as 
a matter  of  course,  end  in  disappointment. 


3o8 


English  CatkoLu  Lileratnre. 


Were  the  Catholic  Church  acknowledged  from  this  mo- 
ment through  the  length  and  breadth  of  these  islands,  and 
the  English  tongue  henceforth  baptized  into  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  sealed  and  consecrated  to  Catholic  objects,  and 
were  the  present  intellectual  activity  of  the  nation  to  con- 
tinue, as  of  course  it  would  continue,  we  should  at  once 
have  an  abundance  of  Catholic  works,  which  would  be 
English,  and  purely  English,  literature  and  high  litera- 
ture ; but  still  all  these  would  not  constitute  English 
Literature,”  as  the  words  are  commonly  understood,  nor 
even  then  could  we  say  that  the  ‘‘English  Literature^' 
was  Catholic.  Much  less  can  we  ever  aspire  to  affirm  it, 
while  we  are  but  a portion  of  the  vast  English-speaking 
world-wide  race,  and  are  but  striving  to  create  a current 
in  the  direction  of  Catholic  truth,  when  the  waters  are 
rapidly  flowing  the  other  way.  In  no  case  can  we, 
strictly  speaking,  form  an  English  Literature  ; for  by 
the  Literature  of  a Nation  is  meant  its  Classics,  and  its 
Classics  have  been  given  to  England,  and  have  been 
recognized  as  such,  long  since. 


2. 

A Literature,  when  it  is  formed,  is  a national  and 
historical  fact ; it  is  a matter  of  the  past  and  the  present, 
and  can  be  as  little  ignored  as  the  present,  as  little  undone 
as  the  past.  We  can  deny,  supersede,  or  change  it,  then 
only,  when  we  can  do  the  same  towards  the  race  or  lan- 
guage which  it  represents.  Every  great  people  has  a cha- 
racter of  its  own,  which  it  manifests  and  perpetuates  in 
a variety  of  ways.  It  developes  into  a monarchy  or  re- 
public ; — by  means  of  commerce  or  in  war,  in  agriculture  or 
in  manufactures,  or  in  all  of  these  at  once  ; in  its  cities,  its 
public  edifices  and  works,  bridges,  canals,  and  harbours  ; 
in  its  laws,  traditions,  customs,  and  manners;  in  its  songs 


English  Catholic  Literature.  309 

and  its  proverbs ; in  its  religion  ; in  its  line  of  policy,  its 
bearing,  its  action  towards  foreign  nations ; in  its  alliances, 
fortunes,  and  the  whole  course  of  its  history.  All  these 
are  peculiar,  and  parts  of  a whole,  and  betoken  the 
national  character,  and  savour  of  each  other ; and  the 
case  is  the  same  with  the  national  language  and  litera- 
ture. They  are  what  they  are,  and  cannot  be  any  thing 
else,  whether  they  be  good  or  bad  or  of  a mixed  nature ; 
before  they  are  formed,  we  cannot  prescribe  them,  and 
afterwards,  we  cannot  reverse  them.  We  may  feel  great 
repugnance  to  Milton  or  Gibbon  as  men  ; we  may  most 
seriously  protest  against  the  spirit  which  ever  lives,  and 
the  tendency  which  ever  operates,  in  every  page  of 
their  writings  ; but  there  they  are,  an  integral  portion 
of  English  Literature  ; we  cannot  extinguish  them  ; we 
cannot  deny  their  power  ; we  cannot  write  a new  Milton 
or  a new  Gibbon ; we  cannot  expurgate  what  needs  to 
be  exorcised.  They  are  great  English  authors,  each 
breathing  hatred  to  the  Catholic  Church  in  his  own  way, 
each  a proud  and  rebellious  creature  of  God,  each  gifted 
with  incomparable  gifts. 

We  must  take  things  as  they  are,  if  we  take  them  at  all. 
We  may  refuse  to  say  a word  to  English  literature,  if  we 
will ; we  may  have  recourse  to  French  or  to  Italian  instead, 
if  we  think  either  of  these  less  exceptionable  than  our  own ; 
we  may  fall  back  upon  the  Classics  of  Greece  and  Rome  ; 
we  may  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  literature,  as 
such,  of  any  kind,  and  confine  ourselves  to  purely  amor- 
phous or  monstrous  specimens  of  language ; but  if  we 
do  once  profess  in  our  Universities  the  English  language 
and  literature,  if  we  think  it  allowable  to  know  the  state 
of  things  we  live  in,  and  that  national  character  which  we 
share,  if  we  think  it  desirable  to  have  a chance  of  writing 
what  may  be  read  after  our  day,  and  praiseworthy  to  aim 


310  English  Catholic  Literature. 

at  providing  for  Catholics  who  speak  English  a Catho- 
lic Literature  then — I do  not  say  that  we  must  at  once 
throw  open  every  sort  of  book  to  the  young,  the  weak,  or 
the  untrained, — I do  not  say  that  we  may  dispense  with 
our  ecclesiastical  indexes  and  emendations,  but — we  must 
not  fancy  ourselves  creating  what  is  already  created  in 
spite  of  us,  and  which  never  could  at  a moment  be  created 
by  means  of  us,  and  we  must  recognize  that  historical 
literature,  which  is  in  occupation  of  the  language,  both 
as  a fact,  nay,  and  as  a standard  for  ourselves. 

There  is  surely  nothing  either  temerarious  ” or  para- 
doxical in  a statement  like  this.  The  growth  of  a nation 
is  like  that  of  an  individual  ; its  tone  of  voice  and  subjects 
for  speech  vary  with  its  age.  Each  age  has  its  own  pro- 
priety and  charm  ; as  a boy’s  beauty  is  not  a man’s,  and 
the  sweetness  of  a treble  differs  from  the  richness  of  a 
bass,  so  it  is  with  a whole  people.  The  same  period  does 
not  produce  its  most  popular  poet,  its  most  effective  orator, 
and  its  most  philosophic  historian.  Language  changes 
with  the  progress  of  thought  and  the  events  of  history,  and 
style  changes  with  it;  and  while  in  successive  generations 
it  passes  through  a series  of  separate  excellences,  the 
respective  deficiencies  of  all  are  supplied  alternately  by 
each.  Thus  language  and  literature  may  be  considered  as 
dependent  on  a process  of  nature,  and  admitting  of  subjec- 
tion to  her  laws.  Father  Hardouin  indeed,  who  maintained 
that,  with  the  exception  of  Pliny,  Cicero,  Virgil’s  Georgies, 
and  Horace’s  Satires  and  Epistles,  Latin  literature  was  the 
work  of  the  medieval  monks,  had  the  conception  of  a 
literature  neither  national  nor  historical ; but  the  rest  of 
the  world  will  be  apt  to  consider  time  and  place  as  neces- 
sary conditions  in  its  formation,  and  will  be  unable  to  con- 
ceive of  classical  authors,  except  as  either  the  elaboration 
of  centuries,  or  the  rare  and  fitful  accident  of  genius. 


English  Catholic  Literature-  3 1 1 

First-rate  excellence  in  literature,  as  in  other  matters, 
is  either  an  accident  or  the  outcome  of  a process  ; and  in 
either  case  demands  a course  of  years  to  secure.  We  can- 
not reckon  on  a Plato,  we  cannot  force  an  Aristotle,  any 
more  than  we  can  command  a fine  harvest,  or  create  a 
coal  field.  If  a literature  be,  as  I have  said,  the  voice  of  a 
particular  nation,  it  requires  a territory  and  a period,  as 
large  as  that  nation’s  extent  and  history,  to  mature  in. 
It  is  broader  and  deeper  than  the  capacity  of  any  body 
of  men,  however  gifted,  or  any  system  of  teaching, 
however  true.  It  is  the  exponent,  not  of  truth,  but  of 
nature,  which  is  true  only  in  its  elements.  It  is  the 
result  of  the  mutual  action  of  a hundred  simultaneous 
influences  and  operations,  and  the  issue  of  a hundred 
strange  accidents  in  independent  places  and  times  ; it  is 
the  scanty  compensating  produce  of  the  wild  discipline 
of  the  world  and  of  life,  so  fruitful  in  failures ; and  it  is 
the  concentration  of  those  rare  manifestations  of  intel- 
lectual power,  which  no  one  can  account  for.  It  is  made 
up,  in  the  particular  language  here  under  consideration, 
of  human  beings  as  heterogeneous  as  Burns  and  Bunyan, 
De  Foe  and  Johnson,  Goldsmith  and  Cowper,  Law  and 
Fielding,  Scott  and  Byron.  The  remark  has  been  made 
that  the  history  of  an  author  is  the  history  of  his  works  ; 
it  is  far  more  exact  to  say  that,  at  least  in  the  case  of  great 
writers,  the  history  of  their  works  is  the  history  of  their 
fortunes  or  their  times.  Each  is,  in  his  turn,  the  man  of 
his  age,  the  type  of  a generation,  or  the  interpreter  of  a 
crisis.  He  is  made  for  his  day,  and  his  day  for  him. 
Hooker  would  not  have  been,  but  for  the  existence  of 
Catholics  and  Puritans,  the  defeat  of  the  former  and  the 
rise  of  the  latter  ; Clarendon  would  not  have  been  with- 
out the  Great  Rebellion  ; Hobbes  is  the  prophet  of  the 
reaction  to  scoffing  infidelity  ; and  Addison  is  the  child 


312  English  Catholic  Literature. 

of  the  Revolution  and  its  attendant  changes.  If  there  be 
any  of  our  classical  authors,  who  might  at  first  sight  have 
been  pronounced  a University  man,  with  the  exception  of 
Johnson,  Addison  is  he  ; yet  even  Addison,  the  son  and 
brother  of  clergymen,  the  fellow  of  an  Oxford  Society, 
the  resident  of  a College  which  still  points  to  the  walk 
which  he  planted,  must  be  something  more,  in  order  to 
take  his  place  among  the  Classics  of  the  language,  and 
owed  the  variety  of  his  matter  to  his  experience  of  life, 
and  to  the  call  made  on  his  resources  by  the  exigencies 
of  his  day.  The  world  he  lived  in  made  him  and  used 
him.  While  his  writings  educated  his  own  generation, 
they  have  delineated  it  for  all  posterity  after  him. 

3- 

I have  been  speaking  of  the  authors  of  a literature,  in 
their  relation  to  the  people  and  course  of  events  to 
which  they  belong ; but  a prior  consideration,  at  which 
I have  already  glanced,  is  their  connection  with  the 
language  itself,  which  has  been  their  organ.  If  they  are 
in  great  measure  the  creatures  of  their  times,  they  are 
on  the  other  hand  in  a far  higher  sense  the  creators  of 
their  language.  It  is  indeed  commonly  called  their 
mother  tongue,  but  virtually  it  did  not  exist  till  they 
gave  it  life  and  form.  All  greater  matters  are  carried 
on  and  perfected  by  a succession  of  individual  minds  ; 
what  is  true  in  the  history  of  thought  and  of  action  is 
true  of  language  also.  Certain  masters  of  composition, 
as  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Pope,  the  writers  of  the 
Protestant  Bible  and  Prayer  Book,  Hooker  and  Addi- 
son, Swift,  Hume,  and  Goldsmith,  have  been  the  making 
of  the  English  language ; and  as  that  language  is  a fact, 
so  is  the  literature  a fact,  by  which  it  is  formed,  and  in 
^hich  it  lives.  Men  of  great  ability  have  taken  it  in 


English  Catholic  Literature,  313 

hand,  each  in  his  own  day,  and  have  done  for  it  what 
the  master  of  a gymnasium  does  for  the  bodily  frame. 
They  have  formed  its  limbs,  and  developed  its  strength  ; 
they  have  endowed  it  with  vigour,  exercised  it  in  sup- 
pleness and  dexterity,  and  taught  it  grace.  They  have 
made  it  rich,  harmonious,  various,  and  precise.  They 
have  furnished  it  with  a variety  of  styles,  which  from 
their  individuality  may  almost  be  called  dialects,  and  are 
monuments  both  of  the  powers  of  the  language  and  the 
genius  of  its  cultivators. 

How  real  a creation,  how  sui  generis,  is  the  style  of 
Shakespeare,  or  of  the  Protestant  Bible  and  Prayer 
Book,  or  of  Swift,  or  of  Pope,  or  of  Gibbon,  or  of  John- 
son ! Even  were  the  subject-matter  without  meaning, 
though  in  truth  the  style  cannot  really  be  abstracted 
from  the  sense,  still  the  style  would,  on  that  supposition, 
remain  as  perfect  and  original  a work  as  Euclid’s  ele- 
ments or  a symphony  of  Beethoven.  And,  like  music, 
it  has  seized  upon  the  public  mind  ; and  the  literature 
of  England  is  no  longer  a mere  letter,  printed  in  books, 
and  shut  up  in  libraries,  but  it  is  a living  voice,  which 
has  gone  forth  in  its  expressions  and  its  sentiments  into 
the  world  of  men,  which  daily  thrills  upon  our  ears  and 
syllables  our  thoughts,  which  speaks  to  us  through  our 
correspondents,  and  dictates  when  we  put  pen  to  paper. 
Whether  we  will  or  no,  the  phraseology  and  diction  of 
Shakespeare,  of  the  Protestant  formularies,  of  Milton, 
of  Pope,  of  Johnson’s  Tabletalk,  and  of  Walter  Scott, 
have  become  a portion  of  the  vernacular  tongue,  the 
household  words,  of  which  perhaps  we  little  guess  the 
origin,  and  the  very  idioms  of  our  familiar  conversation. 
The  man  in  the  comedy  spoke  prose  without  knowing 
it ; and  we  Catholics,  without  consciousness  and  without 
offence,  are  ever  repeating  the  half  sentences  of  dissolute 


314  English  Catholic  Literature. 

playwrights  and  heretical  partizans  and  preachers.  So 
tyrannous  is  the  literature  of  a nation  ; it  is  too  much 
for  us.  We  cannot  destroy  or  reverse  it ; we  may  con- 
front and  encounter  it,  but  we  cannot  make  it  over 
again.  It  is  a great  work  of  man,  when  it  is  no  work  of 
God’s. 

I repeat,  then,  whatever  we  be  able  or  unable  to  effect 
in  the  great  problem  which  lies  before  us,  any  how  we 
cannot  undo  the  past.  English  Literature  will  ever  have 
been  Protestant.  Swift  and  Addison,  the  most  native 
and  natural  of  our  writers.  Hooker  and  Milton,  the  most 
elaborate,  never  can  become  our  co-religionists ; and, 
though  this  is  but  the  enunciation  of  a truism,  it  is  not 
on  that  account  an  unprofitable  enunciation. 

4. 

I trust  we  are  not  the  men  to  give  up  an  undertaking 
because  it  is  perplexed  or  arduous  ; and  to  do  nothing 
because  we  cannot  do  everything.  Much  may  be  at- 
tempted, much  attained,  even  granting  English  Litera- 
ture is  not  Catholic.  Something  indeed  may  be  said 
even  in  alleviation  of  the  misfortune  itself,  on  which  I 
have  been  insisting ; and  with  two  remarks  bearing  upon 
this  latter  point  I will  bring  this  Section  to  an  end. 

I.  First,  then,  it  is  to  be  considered  that,  whether  we 
look  to  countries  Christian  or  heathen,  we  find  the  state  of 
literature  there  as  little  satisfactory  as  it  is  in  these  islands ; 
so  that,  whatever  are  our  difficulties  here,  they  are  not 
worse  than  those  of  Catholics  all  over  the  world.  I would 
not  indeed  say  a word  to  extenuate  the  calamity,  under 
which  we  lie,  of  having  a literature  formed  in  Protestant- 
ism ; still,  other  literatures  have  disadvantages  of  their 
own ; and,  though  in  such  matters  comparisons  are  im- 
possible, I doubt  whether  we  should  be  better  pleased  if 


English  Catholic  Literature,  315 

our  English  Classics  were  tainted  with  licentiousness,  or 
defaced  by  infidelity  or  scepticism.  I conceive  we  should 
not  much  mend  matters  if  we  were  to  exchange  litera- 
tures with  the  French,  Italians,  or  Germans.  About 
Germany,  however,  I will  not  speak  ; as  to  France,  it 
has  great  and  religious  authors ; its  classical  drama,  even 
in  comedy,  compared  with  that  of  other  literatures,  is 
singularly  unexceptionable  ; but  who  is  there  that  holds 
a place  among  its  writers  so  historical  and  important, 
who  is  so  copious,  so  versatile,  so  brilliant,  as  that  Voltaire 
who  is  an  open  scoffer  at  every  thing  sacred,  venerable, 
or  high-minded  "i  Nor  can  Rousseau,  though  he  has 
not  the  pretensions  of  Voltaire,  be  excluded  from  the 
classical  writers  of  France.  Again,  the  gifted  Pascal, 
in  the  work  on  which  his  literary  fame  is  mainly  founded, 
does  not  approve  himself  to  a Catholic  judgment;  and 
Descartes,  the  first  of  French  philosophers,  was  too 
independent  in  his  inquiries  to  be  always  correct  in  his 
conclusions.  The  witty  Rabelais  is  said,  by  a recent 
critic,*  to  show  covertly  in  his  former  publications, 
and  openly  in  his  latter,  his  ‘Mislike  to  the  Church  of 
Rome.''  La  Fontaine  was  with  difficulty  brought,  on 
his  death-bed,  to  make  public  satisfaction  for  the  scandal 
which  he  had  done  to  religion  by  his  immoral  Co1^tes, 
though  at  length  he  threw  into  the  fire  a piece  which  he 
had  just  finished  for  the  stage.  Montaigne,  whose 
Essays  “make  an  epoch  in  literature,"  by  “their  influence 
upon  the  tastes  and  opinions  of  Europe;"  whose  “school 
embraces  a large  proportion  of  French  and  English 
literature ; " and  of  whose  “ brightness  and  felicity  of 
genius  there  can  be  but  one  opinion,"  is  disgraced,  as  the 
same  writer  tells  us,  by  “a  sceptical  bias  and  great  indiffer- 
ence of  temperament ; " and  “ has  led  the  way " as  ^n 

• flallam* 


3i6  English  Catholic  Literature. 

habitual  offender,  ‘‘to  the  indecency  too  characteristic  of 
French  literature.” 

Nor  does  Italy  present  a more  encouraging  picture. 
Ariosto,  one  of  the  few  names,  ancient  or  modern,  who 
is  allowed  on  all  hands  to  occupy  the  first  rank  of  Litera- 
ture, is,  I suppose,  rightly  arraigned  by  the  author  I have 
above  quoted,  of  coarse  sensuality.”  Pulci,  by  his 
sceptical  insinuations,  seems  clearly  to  display  an  inten- 
tion of  exposing  religion  to  contempt.”  Boccaccio,  the 
first  of  Italian  prose-writers,  had  in  his  old  age  touch- 
ingly to  lament  the  corrupting  tendency  of  his  popular 
compositions  ; and  Bellarmine  has  to  vindicate  him, 
Dante,  and  Petrarch,  from  the  charge  of  virulent  abuse 
of  the  Holy  See.  Dante  certainly  does  not  scruple  to 
place  in  his  Inferno  a Pope,  whom  the  Church  has  since 
canonized,  and  his  work  on  Monarchia  is  on  the  Index. 
Another  great  Florentine,  Macchiavel,  is  on  the  Index 
also  ; and  Giannone,  as  great  in  political  history  at 
Naples  as  Macchiavel  at  Florence,  is  notorious  for  his 
disaffection  to  the  interests  of  the  Roman  Pontiff. 

These  are  but  specimens  of  the  general  character  of 
-ecular  literature,  whatever  be  the  people  to  whom  it  be- 
longs. One  literature  may  be  better  than  another,  but 
bad  will  be  the  best,  when  weighed  in  the  balance  of 
truth  and  morality.  It  cannot  be  otherwise  ; human 
nature  is  in  all  ages  and  all  countries  the  same;  and  its 
literature,  therefore,  will  ever  and  everywhere  be  one  and 
the  same  also.  Man’s  work  will  savour  of  man  ; in  his 
elements  and  powers  excellent  and  admirable,  but  prone 
to  disorder  and  excess,  to  error  and  to  sin.  Such  too 
will  be  his  literature  ; it  will  have  the  beauty  and  the 
fierceness,  the  sweetness  and  the  rankness,  of  the  natural 
man,  and,  with  all  its  richness  and  greatness,  will  neces- 
sarily offend  the  senses  of  those  who,  in  the  Apostle’s 


English  Catholic  Literature.  317 

words,  are  really  exercised  to  discern  between  good 
and  evil/'  It  is  said  of  the  holy  Sturme,"  says  an  Ox- 
ford writer,  that,  in  passing  a horde  of  unconverted 
Germans,  as  they  were  bathing  and  gambolling  in  the 
stream,  he  was  so  overpowered  by  the  intolerable  scent 
which  arose  from  them  that  he  nearly  fainted  away." 
National  Literature  is,  in  a parallel  way,  the  untutored 
movements  of  the  reason,  imagination,  passions,  and 
affections  of  the  natural  man,  the  leapings  and  the 
friskings,  the  plungings  and  the  snortings,  the  sportings 
and  the  buffoonings,  the  clumsy  play  and  the  aimless 
toil,  of  the  noble,  lawless  savage  of  God's  intellectual 
creation. 

It  is  well  that  we  should  clearly  apprehend  a truth  so 
simple  and  elementary  as  this,  and  not  expect  from  the 
nature  of  man,  or  the  literature  of  the  world,  what  they 
never  held  out  to  us.  Certainly,  I did  not  know  that  the 
world  was  to  be  regarded  as  favourable  to  Christian  faith 
or  practice,  or  that  it  would  be  breaking  any  engagement 
with  us,  if  it  took  a line  divergent  from  our  own.  I have 
never  fancied  that  we  should  have  reasonable  ground  for 
surprise  or  complaint,  though  man's  intellect  puris  na- 
turalihus  did  prefer,  of  the  two,  liberty  to  truth,  or  though 
his  heart  cherished  a leaning  towards  licence  of  thought 
and  speech  in  comparison  with  restraint. 

5. 

2.  If  we  do  but  resign  ourselves  to  facts,  we  shall  soon 
be  led  on  to  the  second  reflection  which  I have  promised 
— viz.,  that,  not  only  are  things  not  better  abroad,  but 
they  might  be  worse  at  home.  We  have,  it  is  true,  a 
Protestant  literature ; but  then  it  is  neither  atheistical 
nor  immoral ; and,  in  the  case  of  at  least  half  a dozen 
of  its  highest  and  most  influential  departments,  and  of 


3 1 B English  Catholic  Literature. 

the  most  popular  of  its  authors,  it  comes  to  us  with  very 
considerable  alleviations.  For  instance,  there  surely  is 
a call  on  us  for  thankfulness  that  the  most  illustrious 
amongst  English  writers  has  so  little  of  a Protestant 
about  him  that  Catholics  have  been  able,  without  ex- 
travagance, to  claim  him  as  their  own,  and  that  enemies 
to  our  creed  have  allowed  that  he  is  only  not  a Catholic, 
because,  and  as  far  as,  his  times  forbade  it.  It  is  an 
additional  satisfaction  to  be  able  to  boast  that  he  offends 
in  neither  of  those  two  respects,  which  reflect  so  seriously 
upon  the  reputation  of  great  authors  abroad.  Whatever 
passages  may  be  gleaned  from  his  dramas  disrespectful 
to  ecclesiastical  authority,  still  these  are  but  passages  ; on 
the  other  hand,  there  is  in  Shakespeare  neither  contempt 
of  religion  nor  scepticism,  and  he  upholds  the  broad  laws 
of  moral  and  divine  truth  with  the  consistency  and  severity 
of  an  ^schylus,  Sophocles,  or  Pindar.  There  is  no  mis- 
taking in  his  works  on  which  side  lies  the  right ; Satan 
is  not  made  a hero,  nor  Cain  a victim,  but  pride  is  pride, 
and  vice  is  vice,  and,  whatever  indulgence  he  may  allow 
himself  in  light  thoughts  or  unseemly  words,  yet  his 
admiration  is  reserved  for  sanctity  and  truth.  From  the 
second  chief  fault  of  Literature,  as  indeed  my  last  words 
imply,  he  is  not  so  free ; but,  often  as  he  may  offend 
against  modesty,  he  is  clear  of  a worse  charge,  sensuality, 
and  hardly  a passage  can  be  instanced  in  all  that  he 
has  written  to  seduce  the  imagination  or  to  excite  the 
passions. 

A rival  to  Shakespeare,  if  not  in  genius,  at  least  in 
copiousness  and  variety,  is  found  in  Pope ; and  he  was 
actually  a Catholic,  though  personally  an  unsatisfactory 
one.  His  freedom  indeed  from  Protestantism  is  but  a poor 
compensation  for  a false  theory  of  religion  in  one  of  his 
poems  ; bub  taking  his  works  as  a whole,  we  may  surely 


English  Catholic  Literature.  31Q 

acquit  them  of  being  dangerous  to  the  reader,  whether 
on  the  score  of  morals  or  of  faith. 

Again,  the  special  title  of  moralist  in  English  Litera- 
ture is  accorded  by  the  public  voice  to  Johnson,  whose 
bias  towards  Catholicity  is  well  known. 

If  we  were  to  ask  for  a report  of  our  philosophers,  the 
investigation  would  not  be  so  agreeable  ; for  we  have 
three  of  evil,  and  one  of  unsatisfactory  repute.  Locke 
is  scarcely  an  honour  to  us  in  the  standard  of  truth,  grave 
and  manly  as  he  is  ; and  Hobbes,  Hume,  and  Bentham, 
in  spite  of  their  abilities,  are  simply  a disgrace.  Yet, 
even  in  this  department,  we  find  some  compensation  in 
the  names  of  Clarke,  Berkeley,  Butler,  and  Reid,  and  in 
a name  more  famous  than  them  all.  Bacon  was  too 
intellectually  great  to  hate  or  to  contemn  the  Catholic 
faith  ; and  he  deserves  by  his  writings  to  be  called  the 
most  orthodox  of  Protestant  philosophers. 


§•4*  In  its  relation  to  the  Literature  of  the  Day. 


I 


HE  past  cannot  be  undone.  That  our  English 


X Classical  Literature  is  not  Catholic  is  a plain  fact, 
which  we  cannot  deny,  to  which  we  must  reconcile  our- 
selves, as  best  we  may,  and  which,  as  I have  shown  above, 
has  after  all  its  compensations.  When,  then,  I speak  of 
the  desirableness  of  forming  a Catholic  Literature,  I am 
contemplating  no  such  vain  enterprise  as  that  of  reversing 
history  ; no,  nor  of  redeeming  the  past  by  the  future.  I 
have  no  dream  of  Catholic  Classics  as  still  reserved  for  the 
English  language.  In  truth,  classical  authors  not  only 
are  national,  but  belong  to  a particular  age  of  a nation's 
life ; and  I should  not  wonder  if,  as  regards  ourselves, 
that  age  is  passing  away.  Moreover,  they  perform  a 
particular  office  towards  its  language,  which  is  not  likely 
to  be  called  for  beyond  a definite  time.  And  further, 
though  analogies  or  parallels  cannot  be  taken  to  decide 
a question  of  this  nature,  such  is  the  fact,  that  the  series  of 
our  classical  writers  has  already  extended  through  a 
longer  period  than  was  granted  to  the  Classical  Litera- 
ture either  of  Greece  or  of  Rome  ; and  thus  the  English 
language  also  may  have  a long  course  of  literature  still 
to  come  through  many  centuries,  without  that  Literature 
being  classical. 

Latin,  for  instance,  was  a living  language  for  many 
hundred  years  after  the  date  of  the  writers  who  brought 
it  to  its  perfection  ; and  then  it  continued  for  a second 


English  Catholic  Literature.  321 

long  period  to  be  the  medium  of  European  correspon- 
dence. Greek  was  a living  language  to  a date  not  very 
far  short  of  that  of  the  taking  of  Constantinople,  ten  cen- 
turies after  the  date  of  St.  Basil,  and  seventeen  hundred 
years  after  the  period  commonly  called  classical.  And 
thus,  as  the  year  has  its  spring  and  summer,  so  even  for 
those  celebrated  languages  there  was  but  a season  of  splen- 
dour, and,  compared  with  the  whole  course  of  their  dura- 
tion, but  a brief  season.  Since,  then,  English  has  had  its 
great  writers  for  a term  of  about  three  hundred  years, — as 
long,  that  is,  as  the  period  from  Sappho  to  Demosthenes, 
or  from  Pisistratus  to  Arcesilas,  or  from  iEschylus  and 
Pindar  to  Carneades,  or  from  Ennius  to  Pliny, — we 
should  have  no  right  to  be  disappointed  if  the  classical 
period  be  close  upon  its  termination. 

By  the  Classics  of  a national  Literature  I mean  those 
authors  who  have  the  foremost  place  in  exemplifying 
the  powers  and  conducting  the  development  of  its  lan- 
guage. The  language  of  a nation  is  at  first  rude  and 
clumsy  ; and  it  demands  a succession  of  skilful  artists  to 
make  it  malleable  and  ductile,  and  to  work  it  up  to  its 
proper  perfection.  It  improves  by  use,  but  it  is  not 
every  one  who  can  use  it  while  as  yet  it  is  unformed. 
To  do  this  is  an  effort  of  genius  ; and  so  men  of  a pecu- 
liar talent  arise,  one  after  another,  according  to  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  times,  and  accomplish  it.  One  gives  it 
flexibility,  that  is,  shows  how  it  can  be  used  without 
difficulty  to  express  adequately  a variety  of  thoughts  and 
feelings  in  their  nicety  or  intricacy ; another  makes  it 
perspicuous  or  forcible  ; a third  adds  to  its  vocabulary  ; 
and  a fourth  gives  it  grace  and  harmony.  The  style  of 
each  of  such  eminent  masters  becomes  henceforth  in 
some  sort  a property  of  the  language  itself ; words, 
phrases,  collocations,  and  structure,  which  hitherto  did 

2X 


/ 

32  2 English  Catholic  Literature. 

not  exist,  gradually  passing  into  the  conversation  and 
the  composition  of  the  educated  classes. 

2. 

Now  I will  attempt  to  show  how  this  process  of  im- 
provement is  effected,  and  what  is  its  limit.  I conceive 
then  that  these  gifted  writers  act  upon  the  spoken  and 
written  language  by  means  of  the  particular  schools 
which  form  about  them  respectively.  Their  style,  using 
the  word  in  a large  sense,  forcibly  arrests  the  reader,  and 
draws  him  on  to  imitate  it,  by  virtue  of  what  is  excellent 
in  it,  in  spite  of  such  defects  as,  in  common  with  all  human 
works,  it  may  contain.  I suppose  all  of  us  will  recognize 
this  fascination.  For  myself  when  I was  fourteen  or 
fifteen,  I imitated  Addison ; when  I was  seventeen,  I 
wrote  in  the  style  of  Johnson  ; about  the  same  time  I fell 
in  with  the  twelfth  volume  of  Gibbon,  and  my  ears  rang 
with  the  cadence  of  his  sentences,  and  I dreamed  of  it  for 
a night  or  two.  Then  I began  to  make  an  analysis  of 
Thucydides  in  Gibbon's  style.  In  like  manner,  most 
Oxford  undergraduates,  forty  years  ago,  when  they  would 
write  poetry,  adopted  the  versification  of  Pope  Darwin, 
and  the  Pleasures  of  Hope,  which  had  been  made  popular 
by  Heber  and  Milman.  The  literary  schools,  indeed, 
which  I am  speaking  of,  as  resulting  from  the  attractions 
of  some  original,  or  at  least  novel  artist,  consist  for  the 
most  part  of  mannerists,  none  of  whom  rise  much  above 
mediocrity  ; but  they  are  not  the  less  serviceable  as 
channels,  by  means  of  which  the  achievements  of  genius 
may  be  incorporated  into  the  language  itself,  or  become 
the  common  property  of  the  nation.  Henceforth,  the 
most  ordinary  composer,  the  very  student  in  the  lecture- 
room,  is  able  to  wTite  with  a precision,  a grace,  or  a copi- 
ousness, as  the  case  may  be*  unknown  before  the  date 


English  Catholic  Literature.  323 

of  the  authors  whom  he  imitates,  and  he  wonders  at,  if 
he  does  not  rather  pride  himself  on,  his 

novas  frond es,  et  non  sua  poma. 

If  there  is  any  one  who  illustrates  this  remark,  it  is 
Gibbon  ; I seem  to  trace  his  vigorous  condensation  and 
peculiar  rhythm  at  every  turn  in  the  literature  of  the 
present  day.  Pope,  again,  is  said  to  have  tuned  our 
versification.  Since  his  time,  any  one,  who  has  an  ear 
and  turn  for  poetry,  can  with  little  pains  throw  off  a copy 
of  verses  equal  or  superior  to  the  poet’s  own,  and  with 
far  less  of  study  and  patient  correction  than  would  have 
been  demanded  of  the  poet  himself  for  their  production. 
Compare  the  choruses  of  the  Samson  Agonistes  with  any 
stanza  taken  at  random  in  Thalaba  : how  much  had  the 
language  gained  in  the  interval  between  them  ! Without 
denying  the  high  merits  of  Southey’s  beautiful  romance, 
we  surely  shall  not  be  wrong  in  saying,  that  in  its  unem- 
barrassed eloquent  flow,  it  is  the  language  of  the  nineteenth 
century  that  speaks,  as  much  as  the  author  himself. 

I will  give  an  instance  of  what  I mean  : let  us  take  the 
beginning  of  the  first  chorus  in  the  Samson  : — 

Just  are  the  ways  of  God, 

And  justifiable  to  men  ; 

Unless  there  be  who  think  not  God  at  all ; 

If  any  be,  they  walk  obscure, 

For  of  such  doctrine  never  was  there  school, 

But  the  heart  of  the  fool, 

And  no  man  therein  doctor  but  himself. 

But  men  there  be,  who  doubt  His  ways  not  just, 

As  to  His  own  edicts  found  contradicting. 

Then  give  the  reins  to  wandering  thought, 

Regardless  of  His  glory’s  diminution  ; 

Till,  by  their  own  perplexities  involved, 

They  ravel  more,  still  less  resolved. 

But  never  find  self-satisfying  solution. 


324  English  Catholic  Literature. 

And  now  take  the  opening  stanza  of  Thalaba : — 

How  beautiful  is  night  ! 

A dewy  freshness  fills  the  silent  air  ; 

No  mist  obscures,  nor  cloud,  nor  speck,  nor  stain, 

Breaks  the  serene  of  heaven. 

In  full-orb’d  glory  yonder  Moon  divine 
Rolls  through  the  dark  blue  depths. 

Beneath  her  steady  ray 
The  desert  circle  spreads. 

Like  the  round  ocean  girdled  with  the  sky. 

How  beautiful  is  night  ! 

Does  not  Southey  show  to  advantage  here  ? yet  the 
voice  of  the  world  proclaims  Milton  pre-eminently  a 
poet ; and  no  one  can  affect  a doubt  of  the  delicacy  and 
exactness  of  his  ear.  Yet,  much  as  he  did  for  the  lan- 
guage in  verse  and  in  prose,  he  left  much  for  other  artists 
to  do  after  him,  which  they  have  successfully  accom- 
plished. We  see  the  fruit  of  the  literary  labours  of 
Pope,  Thomson,  Gray,  Goldsmith,  and  other  poets  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  in  the  musical  eloquence  of 
Southey. 


3- 

So  much  for  the  process  ; now  for  its  termination.  I 
think  it  is  brought  about  in  some  such  way  as  the 
following : — 

The  influence  of  a great  classic  upon  the  nation  which 
he  represents  is  twofold  ; on  the  one  hand  he  advances 
his  native  language  towards  its  perfection ; but  on  the 
other  hand  he  discourages  in  some  measure  any  advance 
beyond  his  own.  Thus,  in  the  parallel  case  of  science, 
it  is  commonly  said  on  the  continent,  that  the  very 
marvellousness  of  Newton's  powers  was  the  bane  of 
Engli.sh  mathematics  : inasmuch  as  those  who  succeeded 


English  Catholic  Literature.  325 

him  were  content  with  his  discoveries,  bigoted  to  his 
methods  of  investigation,  and  averse  to  those  new  instru- 
ments which  have  carried  on  the  French  to  such  brilliant 
and  successful  results.  In  Literature,  also,  there  is  some- 
thing oppressive  in  the  authority  of  a great  writer,  and 
something  of  tyranny  in  the  use  to  which  his  admirers 
put  his  name.  The  school  which  he  forms  would  fain 
monopolize  the  language,  draws  up  canons  of  criticism 
from  his  writings,  and  is  intolerant  of  innovation.  Those 
who  come  under  its  influence  are  dissuaded  or  deterred 
from  striking  out  a path  of  their  own.  Thus  Virgil’s 
transcendent  excellence  fixed  the  character  of  the  hexa- 
meter in  subsequent  poetry,  and  took  away  the  chances, 
if  not  of  improvement,  at  least  of  variety.  Even  Juvenal 
has  much  of  Virgil  in  the  structure  of  his  verse.  I have 
known  those  who  prefer  the  rhythm  of  Catullus. 

However,  so  summary  a result  is  not  of  necessary 
occurrence.  The  splendour  of  an  author  may  excite  a 
generous  emulation,  or  the  tyrannous  formalism  of  his 
followers  a re- action  ; and  thus  other  authors  and  other 
schools  arise.  We  read  of  Thucydides,  on  hearing 
Herodotus  read  his  history  at  Olympia,  being  incited  to 
attempt  a similar  work,  though  of  an  entirely  different 
and  of  an  original  structure.  Gibbon,  in  like  manner, 
writing  of  Hume  and  Robertson,  says : “The  perfect  com- 
position, the  nervous  language,  the  well-turned  periods 
of  Dr.  Robertson,  inflamed  me  to  the  ambitious  hope 
that  I might  one  day  tread  in  his  footsteps ; the  calm 
philosophy,  the  careless  inimitable  beauties  of  his  friend 
and  rival,  often  forced  me  to  close  the  volume  with  a 
mixed  sensation  of  delight  and  despair.”  * 

As  to  re-actions,  I suppose  there  has  been  something 
of  the  kind  against  the  supremacy  of  Pope,  since  the  time 
* Misc.  Works,  p.  55. 


326  English  Catholic  Literature. 

that  his  successors,  Campbell  especially,  have  developed 
his  peculiarities  and  even  defects  into  extravagance. 
Crabbe,  for  instance,  turned  back  to  a versification  having 
much  more  of  Dryden  in  it ; and  Byron,  in  spite  of  his 
high  opinion  of  Pope,  threw  into  his  lines  the  rhythm  of 
blank  verse.  Still,  on  the  whole,  the  influence  of  a Classic 
acts  in  the  way  of  discouraging  any  thing  new,  rather  than 
in  that  of  exciting  rivalry  or  provoking  re-action. 

And  another  consideration  is  to  be  taken  into  account. 
When  a language  has  been  cultivated  in  any  particular 
department  of  thought,  and  so  far  as  it  has  been  generally 
perfected,  an  existing  want  has  been  supplied,  and  there 
is  no  need  for  further  workmen.  In  its  earlier  times, 
while  it  is  yet  unformed,  to  write  in  it  at  all  is  almost  a 
work  of  genius.  It  is  like  crossing  a country  before 
roads  are  made  communicating  between  place  and  place. 
The  authors  of  that  age  deserve  to  be  Classics,  both 
because  of  what  they  do  and  because  they  can  do  it.  It 
requires  the  courage  or  the  force  of  great  talent  to  com- 
pose in  the  language  at  all ; and  the  composition,  when 
effected,  makes  a permanent  impression  on  it.  In 
those  early  times,  too,  the  licence  of  speech  unfettered 
by  precedents,  the  novelty  of  the  work,  the  state  of 
society,  and  the  absence  of  criticism,  enable  an  author  to 
write  with  spirit  and  freshness.  But,  as  centuries  pass  on, 
this  stimulus  is  taken  away  ; the  language  by  this  time 
has  become  manageable  for  its  various  purposes,  and  is 
ready  at  command.  Ideas  have  found  their  correspond- 
ing expressions ; and  one  word  will  often  convey  what 
once  required  half  a dozen.  Roots  have  been  expanded, 
derivations  multiplied,  terms  invented  or  adopted.  A 
variety  of  phrases  has  been  provided,  which  form  a sort 
of  compound  words.  Separate  professions,  pursuits,  and 
provinces  of  literature  have  gained  their  conventional 


English  Catholic  Literature.  327 

terminology.  There  is  an  historical,  political,  social,  com- 
mercial style.  The  ear  of  the  nation  has  become  accus- 
tomed to  useful  expressions  or  combinations  of  words, 
which  otherwise  would  sound  harsh.  Strange  metaphors 
have  been  naturalized  in  the  ordinary  prose,  yet  cannot 
be  taken  as  precedents  for  a similar  liberty.  Criticism 
has  become  an  art,  and  exercises  a continual  and  jealous 
watch  over  the  free  genius  of  new  writers.  It  is  difficult 
for  them  to  be  original  in  the  use  of  their  mother  tongue 
without  being  singular. 

Thus  the  language  has  become  in  a great  measure 
stereotype ; as  in  the  case  of  the  human  frame,  it  has 
expanded  to  the  loss  of  its  elasticity,  and  can  expand  no 
more.  Then  the  general  style  of  educated  men,  formed 
by  the  accumulated  improvements  of  centuries,  is  far 
superior  perhaps  in  perfectness  to  that  of  any  one  of 
those  national  Classics,  who  have  taught  their  country- 
men to  write  more  clearly,  or  more  elegantly,  or  more 
forcibly  than  themselves.  And  literary  men  submit 
themselves  to  what  they  find  so  well  provided  for  them; 
or,  if  impatient  of  conventionalities,  and  resolved  to 
shake  off  a yoke  which  tames  them  down  to  the  loss  of 
individuality,  they  adopt  no  half  measures,  but  indulge 
in  novelties  which  offend  against  the  genius  of  the  lan- 
guage, and  the  true  canons  of  taste.  Political  causes  may 
co-operate  in  a revolt  of  this  kind  ; and,  as  a nation 
declines  in  patriotism,  so  does  its  language  in  purity. 
It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  sententious,  epigrammatic  style 
of  writing,  which  set  in  with  Seneca,  and  is  seen  at  least 
as  late  as  in  the  writings  of  St.  Ambrose,  is  an  attempt 
to  escape  from  the  simplicity  of  Csesar  and  the  majestic 
elocution  of  Cicero ; while  Tertullian,  with  more  of 
genius  than  good  sense,  relieves  himself  in  the  harsh 
originality  of  his  provincial  Latin. 


328  English  Calholic  Literature. 

There  is  another  impediment,  as  time  goes  on,  to  the 
rise  of  fresh  classics  in  any  nation  ; and  that  is  the  effect 
which  foreigners,  or  foreign  literature,  will  exert  upon 
it.  It  may  happen  that  a certain  language,  like  Greek,  is 
adopted  and  used  familiarly  by  educated  men  in  other 
countries  ; or  again,  that  educated  men,  to  whom  it  is 
native,  may  abandon  it  for  some  other  language,  as  the 
Romans  of  the  second  and  third  centuries  wrote  in 
Greek  instead  of  Latin.  The  consequence  will  be,  that 
the  language  in  question  will  tend  to  lose  its  nationality 
— that  is,  its  distinctive  character ; it  will  cease  to  be 
idiomatic  in  the  sense  in  which  it  once  was  so  ; and 
whatever  grace  or  propriety  it  may  retain,  it  will  be 
comparatively  tame  and  spiritless  ; or,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  will  be  corrupted  by  the  admixture  of  foreign 
elements. 


4. 

Such,  as  I consider,  being  the  fortunes  of  Classical 
Literature,  viewed  generally,  I should  never  be  sur- 
prised to  find  that,  as  regards  this  hemisphere,  for  I can 
prophesy  nothing  of  America,  we  have  well  nigh  seen 
the  end  of  English  Classics.  Certainly,  it  is  in  no  ex- 
pectation of  Catholics  continuing  the  series  here  that  I 
speak  of  the  duty  and  necessity  of  their  cultivating 
English  literature.  When  I speak  of  the  formation  of  a 
Catholic  school  of  writers,  I have  respect  principally  to 
the  matter  of  what  is  written,  and  to  composition  only 
so  far  forth  as  style  is  necessary  to  convey  and  to  recom- 
mend the  matter.  I mean  a literature  which  resembles 
the  literature  of  the  day.  This  is  not  a day  for  great 
writers,  but  for  good  writing,  and  a great  deal  of  it. 
There  never  was  a time  when  men  wrote  so  much  and 
so  well,  and  that,  without  being  of  any  great  account  them- 


English  Catholic  Literature.  329 

selves.  While  our  literature  in  this  day,  especially  the 
periodical,  is  rich  and  various,  its  language  is  elaborated 
to  a perfection  far  beyond  that  of  our  Classics,  by  the 
jealous  rivalry,  the  incessant  practice,  the  mutual  in- 
fluence, of  its  many  writers.  In  point  of  mere  style,  1 
suppose,  many  an  article  in  the  Thnes  newspaper,  or 
Edinburgh  Review,  is  superior  to  a preface  of  Dryden’s, 
or  a Spectator,  or  a pamphlet  of  Swift’s,  or  one  of 
South’s  sermons. 

Our  writers  write  so  well  that  there  is  little  to  choose 
between  them.  What  they  lack  is  that  individuality, 
that  earnestness,  most  personal  yet  most  unconscious  of 
self,  which  is  the  greatest  charm  of  an  author.  The  very 
form  of  the  compositions  of  the  day  suggests  to  us  their 
main  deficiency.  They  are  anonymous.  So  was  it  not  in 
the  literature  of  those  nations  which  we  consider  the 
special  standard  of  classical  writing  ; so  is  it  not  with 
our  own  Classics.  The  Epic  was  sung  by  the  voice  of 
the  living,  present  poet  The  drama,  in  its  very  idea, 
is  poetry  in  persons.  Historians  begin,  “ Herodotus,  of 
Halicarnassus,  publishes  his  researches ; ” or,  Thucy- 
dides, the  Athenian,  has  composed  an  account  of  the 
war.”  Pindar  is  all  through  his  odes  a speaker.  Plato, 
Xenophon,  and  Cicero,  throw  their  philosophical  disser- 
tations into  the  form  of  a dialogue.  Orators  and  preachers 
are  by  their  very  profession  known  persons,  and  the  per- 
sonal is  laid  down  by  the  Philosopher  of  antiquity  as  the 
source  of  their  greatest  persuasiveness.  Virgil  and 
Horace  are  ever  bringing  into  their  poetry  their  own 
characters  and  tastes.  Dante’s  poems  furnish  a series  of 
events  for  the  chronology  of  his  times.  Milton  is  frequent 
in  allusions  to  his  own  history  and  circumstances.  Even 
when  Addison  writes  anonymously,  he  writes  under  a 
professed  character,  and  that  in  a great  measure  his  own; 


330  English  Catholic  Literature. 

he  writes  in  the  first  person.  The  “ I ” of  the  Spectator, 
and  the  ‘‘we'^  of  the  modern  Review  or  Newspaper,  are 
the  respective  symbols  of  the  two  ages  in  our  literature. 
Catholics  must  do  as  their  neighbours  ; they  must  be 
content  to  serve  their  generation,  to  promote  the  interests 
of  religion,  to  recommend  truth,  and  to  edify  their  breth- 
ren to-day,  though  their  names  are  to  have  little  weight, 
and  their  works  are  not  to  last  much  beyond  themselves. 

5. 

And  now  having  shown  what  it  is  that  a Catholic 
University  does  not  think  of  doing,  what  it  need  not  do, 
and  what  it  cannot  do,  I might  go  on  to  trace  out  in 
detail  what  it  is  that  it  really  might  and  will  encourage 
and  create.  But,  as  such  an  investigation  would  neither 
be  difficult  to  pursue,  nor  easy  to  terminate,  I prefer  to 
leave  the  subject  at  the  preliminary  point  to  which  i 
have  broueht  it 


331 


IV. 


ELEMENTARY  STUDIES. 

IT  has  often  been  observed  that,  when  the  eyes  of  the 
infant  first  open  upon  the  world,  the  reflected  rays  of 
light  w’hich  strike  them  from  the  myriad  of  surrounding 
objects  present  to  him  no  image,  but  a medley  of  colours 
and  shadows.  They  do  not  form  into  a whole  ; they  do 
not  rise  into  foregrounds  and  melt  into  distances ; they 
do  not  divide  into  groups  ; they  do  not  coalesce  into 
unities  ; they  do  not  combine  into  persons ; but  each 
particular  hue  and  tint  stands  by  itself,  wedged  in  amid 
a thousand  others  upon  the  vast  and  flat  mosaic,  having 
no  intelligence,  and  conveying  no  story,  any  more  than 
the  wrong  side  of  some  rich  tapestry.  The  little  babe 
stretches  out  his  arms  and  fingers,  as  if  to  grasp  or  to 
fathom  the  many-coloured  vision  ; and  thus  he  gradually 
learns  the  connexion  of  part  with  part,  separates  what 
moves  from  what  is  stationary,  watches  the  coming  and 
going  of  figures,  masters  the  idea  of  shape  and  of  per- 
spective, calls  in  the  information  conveyed  through  the 
other  senses  to  assist  him  in  his  mental  process,  and  thus 
gradually  converts  a calidoscope  into  a picture.  The 
first  view  was  the  more  splendid,  the  second  the  more 
real ; the  former  more  poetical,  the  latter  more  philoso- 
phical. Alas  ! what  are  we  doing  all  through  life,  both 
as  a necessity  and  as  a duty,  but  unlearning  the  world’s 


332 


Elementary  Studies. 


poetry,  and  attaining  to  its  prose ! This  is  our  educa- 
tion, as  boys  and  as  men,  in  the  action  of  life,  and  in  the 
closet  or  library ; in  our  affections,  in  our  aims,  in  our 
hopes,  and  in  our  memories.  And  in  like  manner  it  is 
the  education  of  our  intellect ; I say,  that  one  main  por- 
tion of  intellectual  education,  of  the  labours  of  both 
school  and  university,  is  to  remove  the  original  dimness 
of  the  mind's  eye ; to  strengthen  and  perfect  its  vision  ; 
to  enable  it  to  look  out  into  the  world  right  forward, 
steadily  and  truly  ; to  give  the  mind  clearness,  accuracy, 
precision  ; to  enable  it  to  use  words  aright,  to  understand 
what  it  says,  to  conceive  justly  what  it  thinks  about,  to 
abstract,  compare,  analyze,  divide,  define,  and  reason,  cor- 
rectly. There  is  a particular  science  v/hich  takes  these 
matters  in  hand,  and  it  is  called  logic  ; but  it  is  not  by 
logic,  certainly  not  by  logic  alone,  that  the  faculty  I 
speak  of  is  acquired.  The  infant  does  not  learn  to  spell 
and  read  the  hues  upon  his  retina  by  any  scientific  rule  ; 
nor  does  the  student  learn  accuracy  of  thought  by  any 
manual  or  treatise.  The  instruction  given  him,  of  what- 
ever kind,  if  it  be  really  instruction,  is  mainly,  or  at  least 
pre-eminently,  this, — a discipline  in  accuracy  of  mind. 

Boys  are  always  more  or  less  inaccurate,  and  too  many, 
or  rather  the  majority,  remain  boys  all  their  lives.  When, 
for  instance,  I hear  speakers  at  public  meetings  declaim- 
ing about  large  and  enlightened  views,"  or  about  ‘‘  free- 
dom of  conscience,"  or  about  the  Gospel,"  or  any  other 
popular  subject  of  the  day,  I am  far  from  denying  that 
some  among  them  know  what  they  are  talking  about ; 
but  it  would  be  satisfactory,  in  a particular  case,  to  be 
sure  of  the  fact ; for  it  seems  to  me  that  those  household 
words  may  stand  in  a man^s  mind  for  a something  or 
other,  very  glorious  indeed,  but  very  misty,  pretty  much 
like  the  idea  of  civilization  " which  floats  before  the 


Elementary  Studies. 


333 


mental  vision  of  a I'urk, — that  is,  if,  when  he  interrupts 
his  smoking  to  utter  the  word,  he  condescends  to  reflect 
whether  it  has  any  meaning  at  all.  Again,  a critic  in  a 
periodical  dashes  off,  perhaps,  his  praises  of  a new  work, 
as  talented,  original,  replete  with  intense  interest,  irre- 
sistible in  argument,  and,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word, 
a very  readable  book  ; — can  we  really  believe  that  he 
cares  to  attach  any  definite  sense  to  the  words  of  which 
he  is  so  lavish  } nay,  that,  if  he  had  a habit  of  at- 
taching sense  to  them,  he  could  ever  bring  himself  to  so 
prodigal  and  wholesale  an  expenditure  of  them } 

To  a short-sighted  person,  colours  run  together  and 
intermix,  outlines  disappear,  blues  and  reds  and  yellows 
become  russets  or  browns,  the  lamps  or  candles  of  an 
illumination  spread  into  an  unmeaning  glare,  or  dissolve 
into  a milky  way.  He  takes  up  an  eye-glass,  and  the 
mist  clears  up  ; every  image  stands  out  distinct,  and  the 
rays  of  light  fall  back  upon  their  centres.  It  is  this 
haziness  of  intellectual  vision  which  is  the  malady  of  all 
classes  of  men  by  nature,  of  those  who  read  and  write 
and  compose,  quite  as  well  as  of  those  who  cannot, — of 
all  who  have  not  had  a really  good  education.  Those 
who  cannot  either  read  or  write  may,  nevertheless,  be  in 
the  number  of  those  who  have  remedied  and  got  rid  of 
it ; those  who  can,  are  too  often  still  under  its  power. 
It  is  an  acquisition  quite  separate  from  miscellaneous  in- 
formation, or  knowledge  of  books  This  is  a large  sub- 
ject, which  might  be  pursued  at  great  length,  and  of 
which  here  I shall  but  attempt  one  or  two  illustrations. 


334 


§•  I — Grammar, 


I. 


NE  of  the  subjects  especially  interesting  to  all 


V_^  persons  who,  from  any  point  of  view,  as  officials 
or  as  students,  are  regarding  a University  course,  is  that 
of  the  Entrance  Examination.  Now  a principal  subject 
introduced  into  this  examination  will  be  ‘‘  the  elements 
of  Latin  and  Greek  Grammar.*’  “Grammar”  in  the 
middle  ages  was  often  used  as  almost  synonymous  with 
“literature,”  and  a Grammarian  was  a “Professor  litera- 
rum.**  This  is  the  sense  of  the  word  in  which  a youth 
of  an  inaccurate  mind  delights.  He  rejoices  to  profess 
all  the  classics,  and  to  learn  none  of  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  by  “ Grammar  *’  is  now  more  commonly 
meant,  as  Johnson  defines  it,  “the  art  of  using  words 
properly,**  and  it  “ comprises  four  parts — Orthography, 
Etymology,  Syntax,  and  Prosody.**  Grammar,  in  this 
sense,  is  the  scientific  analysis  of  language,  and  to  be 
conversant  with  it,  as  regards  a particular  language,  is 
to  be  able  to  understand  the  meaning  and  force  of  that 
language  when  thrown  into  sentences  and  paragraphs. 

Thus  the  word  is  used  when  the  “ elements  of  Latin 
and  Greek  Grammar  **  are  spoken  of  as  subjects  of  our 
Entrance  Examination  ; not,  that  is,  the  elements  of 
Latin  and  Greek  literature,  as  if  a youth  were  intended 
to  have  a smattering  of  the  classical  wTiters  in  general, 
and  were  to  be  able  to  give  an  opinion  about  the  elo- 
quence of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  the  value  of  Livy, 


Elementary  Siitdies. 


335 


or  the  existence  of  Homer ; or  need  have  read  half  a 
dozen  Greek  and  Latin  authors,  and  portions  of  a dozen 
others : — though  of  course  it  would  be  much  to  his  credit 
if  he  had  done  so  ; only,  such  proficiency  is  not  to  be 
expected,  and  cannot  be  required,  of  him  : — but  we  mean 
the  structure  and  characteristics  of  the  Latin  and  Greek 
languages,  or  an  examination  of  his  scholarship.  That  is, 
an  examination  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  he  knows 
Etymology  and  Syntax,  the  two  principal  departments 
of  the  science  of  language, — whether  he  understands 
how  the  separate  portions  of  a sentence  hang  together, 
how  they  form  a whole,  how  each  has  its  own  place  in 
the  government  of  it,  what  are  the  peculiarities  of  con- 
struction or  the  idiomatic  expressions  in  it  proper  to  the 
language  in  which  it  is  written,  what  is  the  precise  mean- 
ing of  its  terms,  and  what  the  history  of  their  formation. 

All  this  will  be  best  arrived  at  by  trying  how  far  he 
can  frame  a possible,  or  analyze  a given  sentence.  To 
translate  an  English  sentence  into  Latin  is  to  frame  a 
sentence,  and  is  the  best  test  whether  or  not  a student 
knows  the  difference  of  Latin  from  English  construction  ; 
to  construe  and  parse  is  to  analyze  a sentence,  and  is  an 
evidence  of  the  easier  attainment  of  knowing  what 
Latin  construction  is  in  itself.  And  this  is  the  sense  of 
the  word  Grammar  which  our  inaccurate  student 
detests,  and  this  is  the  sense  of  the  word  which  every 
sensible  tutor  will  maintain.  His  maxim  is,  ''a  little, 
but  well ; that  is,  really  know  what  you  say  you  know: 
know  what  you  know  and  what  you  do  not  know ; get 
one  thing  well  before  you  go  on  to  a second  ; try  to 
ascertain  what  your  words  mean  ; when  you  read  a sen- 
tence, picture  it  before  your  mind  as  a whole,  take  in  the 
truth  or  information  contained  in  it,  express  it  in  your 
own  words,  and.  if  it  be  important,  popimit  it  to  the 


336 


Elementary  Studies. 


faithful  memory.  Again,  compare  one  idea  with  another; 
adjust  truths  and  facts  ; form  them  into  one  whole,  or 
notice  the  obstacles  which  occur  in  doing  so.  This  is 
the  way  to  make  progress  ; this  is  the  way  to  arrive  at 
results  ; not  to  swallow  knowledge,  but  (according  to  the 
figure  sometimes  used)  to  masticate  and  digest  it. 


2. 

To  illustrate  what  I mean,  I proceed  to  take  an  in- 
stance. I will  draw  the  sketch  of  a candidate  for  entrance, 
deficient  to  a great  extent.  I shall  put  him  below  par^ 
and  not  such  as  it  is  likely  that  a respectable  school  would 
turn  out,  with  a view  of  clearly  bringing  before  the  reader, 
by  the  contrast,  what  a student  ought  not  to  be,  or  what 
is  meant  by  inaccuracy.  And,  in  order  to  simplify  the 
case  to  the  utmost,  I shall  take,  as  he  will  perceive  as  I 
proceed,  one  single  word  as  a sort  of  text,  and  show  how 
that  one  word,  even  by  itself,  affords  matter  for  a suffi- 
cient examination  of  a youth  in  grammar,  history,  and 
geography.  I set  off  thus  : — 

Tutor.  Mr.  Brown,  I believe } sit  down.  Candidate. 
Yes. 

T.  What  are  the  Latin  and  Greek  books  you  propose 
to  be  examined  in } C.  Homer,  Lucian,  Demosthenes, 
Xenophon,  Virgil,  Horace,  Statius,  Juvenal,  Cicero, 
Analecta,  and  Matthiae. 

T.  No ; I mean  what  are  the  books  I am  to  examine 
you  in  ? C.  is  silent. 

T.  The  two  books,  one  Latin  and  one  Greek  : don't 
flurry  yourself.  C.  Oh,  . . . Xenophon  and  Virgil. 

T.  Xenophon  and  Virgil.  Very  well ; what  part  of 
Xenophon  } C.  is  silent. 

T.  What  work  of  Xenophon  .?  C.  Xenophon. 

T.  Xenophon  wrote  many  works.  Do  you  know  the 


Elementary  Studies.  337 

names  of  any  of  them  ? (7.  I • • . Xenophon  . . , 

Xenophon. 

T.  Is  it  the  Anabasis  you  take  up  ? C.  (yoith  surprise) 
O yes  ; the  Anabasis. 

T,  Well,  Xenophon  s Anabasis ; now  what  is  the 
meaning  of  the  word  anabasis  ? C,  is  silent, 

T,  You  know  very  well;  take  your  time,  and  don't 
be  alarmed.  Anabasis  means  , , , C,  An  ascent. 

T.  Very  right ; it  means  an  ascent.  Now  how  comes 
it  to  mean  an  ascent  1 What  is  it  derived  from  } C,  It 
comes  from  ...  (a  pause).  Anabasis  ...  it  is  the 
nominative. 

T.  Quite  right : but  what  part  of  speech  is  it  ? C.  h, 
noun, — a noun  substantive. 

T,  Very  well ; a noun  substantive , now  what  is  the 
verb  that  anabasis  is  derived  from  } C,  is  silent. 

T,  From  the  verb  ava^aivoy,  isn't  it } from  dva^atvco. 
C.  Yes. 

T,  Just  so.  Now,  what  does  mean  C.  To 

go  up,  to  ascend. 

T.  Very  well ; and  which  part  of  the  word  means  to 
go,  and  which  part  up  ? C.  dvd  is  upy  and  ^aivco  is  go. 

T.  Baivo)  to  go,  yes ; now  ? What  does  ^dau^ 

mean  ? C.  A going. 

T,  That  is  right ; and  dvd-l3acn<;  } C.  A going  up. 

T.  Now  what  is  a going  down  ? C,  is  silent. 

T.  What  is  down  'I  .,  . Kard  . . . don't  you  recollect  ? 
Kard,  C,  Kard, 

T.  Well,  then,  what  is  a going  down  f Cat  . • . cat 
> . . C.  Cat.  . . . 

2\  Cata  ...  C.  Cata.  . . . 

T.  Catabasis.  C,  Oh,  of  course,  catabasis. 

T,  Now  tell  me  what  is  the  future  of  ^aLvoi  ? C.  {thinks) 
Bavco. 


22 


338 


Elementary  Studies,. 


T,  No,  no ; think  again ; you  know  better  than  that. 
C.  {objects^  0aivcOy  ^avSi  ? 

T.  Certainly,  (j^avco  is  the  future  of  ^aivco  ; but  ^alvco 
is,  you  know,  an  irregular  verb.  C.  Oh,  I recollect,  ^^aco. 

T.  Well,  that  is  much  better ; but  you  are  not  quite 
right  yet ; ^rjaofjbai.  C,  Oh,  of  course,  ^rjorojiaL 

T.  Brjaofjbai.  Now  do  you  mean  to  say  that  ^T^aofiac 
comes  from  ^aivw  } C.  is  silent, 

T.  For  instance  : comes  from  tvittio  by  a change 

of  letters ; does  ^r](Toybai  in  any  similar  way  come  from 
^alv(o  ? C.  It  is  an  irregular  verb. 

T,  What  do  you  mean  by  an  irregular  verb  ? does  it 
form  tenses  anyhow  and  by  caprice  C,  It  does  not 
go  according  to  the  paradigm. 

T,  Yes,  but  how  do  you  account  for  this  "i  C.  is  silent, 

T,  Are  its  tenses  formed  from  several  roots  t C,  is 
silent,  T,  is  silent ; then  he  changes  the  subject, 

T,  Well,  now  you  Anabasis  means  an  ascent.  Who 
ascended  "i  C,  The  Greeks,  Xenophon. 

T,  Very  well : Xenophon  and  the  Greeks ; the  Greeks 
ascended.  To  what  did  they  ascend  } C,  Against  the 
Persian  king:  they  ascended  to  fight  the  Persian  king. 

T,  That  is  right  ...  an  ascent ; but  I thought  we 
called  it  a ^^scent  when  a foreign  army  carried  war  into 
a country  } C,  is  silent, 

T,  Don't  we  talk  of  a descent  of  barbarians  } C,  Yes. 

T,  Why  then  are  the  Greeks  said  to  go  upf  C.  They 
went  up  to  fight  the  Persian  king. 

T,  Yes  ; but  why  up  ,,  , why  not  down  f C.  They 
came  down  afterwards,  when  they  retreated  back  to 
Greece. 

T,  Perfectly  right ; they  did  . . . but  could  you  give 
no  reason  why  they  are  said  to  go  up  to  Persia,  not 
down  f C,  They  went  up  to  Persia. 


Elementary  Studies.  339 

T.  Why  do  you  not  say  they  went  down  ? C.  pauses, 
then,  . . . They  went  down  to  Persia. 

T.  You  have  misunderstood  me. 

A silence, 

T,  Why  do  you  not  say  down  ? C.  1 do  ..  . down. 

T.  You  have  got  confused  ; you  know  very  well.  C, 
I understood  you  to  ask  why  I did  not  say  ''  they  went 
down 

A silence  on  both  sides. 

T.  Have  you  come  up  to  Dublin  or  down  ? I came 
up. 

T.  Why  do  you  call  it  coming  up  ? C,  thinks,  then 
smiles,  then  . . . We  always  call  it  coming  up  to  Dublin. 

T.  Well,  but  you  always  have  a reason  for  what  you 
do  . . . what  is  your  reason  here  } C.  is  silent. 

T.  Come,  come,  Mr.  Brown,  I won’t  believe  you  don’t 
know  ; I am  sure  you  have  a very  good  reason  for  saying 
you  go  up  to  Dublin,  not  down.  C.  thinks,  then  ...  It 
is  the  capital. 

T.  Very  well ; now  was  Persia  the  capital } C.  Yes. 

T.  Well  . . . no  . . . not  exactly  . . . explain  your- 
self ; was  Persia  a city  } C.  A country. 

T.  That  is  right;  well,  but  did  you  ever  hear  of  Susa.? 
Now,  why  did  they  speak  of  going  up  to  Persia  .?  C.  is 
silent. 

T.  Because  it  was  the  seat  of  government ; that  was 
one  reason.  Persia  was  the  seat  of  government ; they 
went  up  because  it  was  the  seat  of  government.  C.  Be- 
cause it  was  the  seat  of  government. 

T.  Now  where  did  they  go  up  from .?  C.  From  Greece. 

T.  But  where  did  this  army  assemble .?  whence  did  it 
set  out .?  C.  is  silent. 

T.  It  is  mentioned  in  the  first  book  ; where  did  the 
troops  rendezvous  ? C.  is  silent. 


340  Elementary  Studies. 

T,  Open  your  book  ; now  turn  to  Book  L,  chapter  ii. ; 
now  tell  me.  C.  Oh,  at  Sardis. 

T,  Very  right : at  Sardis  ; now  where  was  Sardis } 
C,  In  Asia  Minor.?  . . . no  . . . it's  an  island  ...  a 
pause,  then  . . . Sardinia. 

T.  In  Asia  Minor;  the  army  set  out  from  Asia  Minor, 
and  went  on  towards  Persia  ; and  therefore  it  is  said  to 
go  up — because  ...  C.  is  silent, 

T,  Because  . . . Persia  ...  C.  Because  Persia  . . . 

T,  Of  course  ; because  Persia  held  a sovereignty  over 
Asia  Minor.  C.  Yes. 

T,  Now  do  you  know  how  and  when  Persia  came  to 
conquer  and  gain  possession  of  Asia  Minor .?  C,  is 
silent, 

T,  Was  Persia  in  possession  of  many  countries  .?  C. 
is  silent, 

T,  Was  Persia  at  the  head  of  an  empire .?  C,  is  silent, 

T,  Who  was  Xerxes  .?  C,  Oh,  Xerxes  . . . yes  . . . 
Xerxes  ; he  invaded  Greece ; he  flogged  the  sea. 

T,  Right;  he  flogged  the  sea:  what  sea.?  C,  is  silent, 

T.  Have  you  read  any  history  of  Persia  .?  . . . what 
history  .?  C,  Grote,  and  Mitford. 

T,  Well,  now,  Mr.  Brown,  you  can  name  some  other 
reason  why  the  Greeks  spoke  of  going  up  to  Persia .? 
Do  we  talk  of  going  up  or  down  from  the  sea-coast .? 
a Up. 

T,  That  is  right ; well,  going  from  Asia  Minor,  would 
you  go  from  the  sea,  or  towards  it .?  G,  From. 

T.  What  countries  would  you  pass,  going  from  the 
coast  of  Asia  Minor  to  Persia .?  . . . mention  any  of  them. 
C,  is  silent. 

T.  What  do  you  mean  by  Asia  Minor?  . . . why 
called  Minor  ? • • • how  does  it  lie .?  C.  is  silent. 

Etc.,  etc. 


Hlementary  Studies. 


341 


3. 

I have  drawn  out  this  specimen  at  the  risk  of  weary- 
ing the  reader  ; but  I have  wished  to  bring  out  clearly 
what  it  really  is  which  an  Entrance  Examination  should 
aim  at  and  require  in  its  students.  This  young  man  had 
read  the  Anabasis,  and  had  some  general  idea  what  the 
word  meant ; but  he  had  no  accurate  knowledge  how  the 
word  came  to  have  its  meaning,  or  of  the  history  and 
geography  implied  in  it.  This  being  the  case,  it  was 
useless,  or  rather  hurtful,  for  a boy  like  him  to  amuse 
himself  with  running  through  Grote’s  many  volumes,  or 
to  cast  his  eye  over  Matthiae's  minute  criticisms.  Indeed, 
this  seems  to  have  been  Mr.  Brown’s  stumbling-block  ; he 
began  by  saying  that  he  had  read  Demosthenes,  Virgil, 
Juvenal,  and  I do  not  know  how  many  other  authors. 
Nothing  is  more  common  in  an  age  like  this,  when  books 
abound,  than  to  fancy  that  the  gratification  of  a love  of 
reading  is  real  study.  Of  course  there  are  youths  who 
shrink  even  from  story  books,  and  cannot  be  coaxed  into 
getting  through  a tale  of  romance.  Such  Mr.  Brown 
was  not ; but  there  are  others,  and  I suppose  he  was  in 
their  number,  who  certainly  have  a taste  for  reading,  but 
in  whom  it  is  little  more  than  the  result  of  mental  rest- 
lessness and  curiosity.  Such  minds  cannot  fix  their 
gaze  on  one  object  for  two  seconds  together ; the  very 
impulse  which  leads  them  to  read  at  all,  leads  them  to 
read  on,  and  never  to  stay  or  hang  over  any  one  idea. 
The  pleasurable  excitement  of  reading  what  is  new  is 
their  motive  principle ; and  the  imagination  that  they 
are  doing  something,  and  the  boyish  vanity  which  accom- 
panies it,  are  their  reward.  Such  youths  often  profess 
to  like  poetry,  or  to  like  history  or  biography ; they  are 
fond  of  lectures  on  certain  of  the  physical  sciences  ; or 
they  may  possibly  have  a real  and  true  taste  for  natural 


342 


Elementary  Studies. 


history  or  other  cognate  subjects  ; — and  so  far  they  may 
be  regarded  with  satisfaction;  but  on  the  other  hand 
they  profess  that  they  do  not  like  logic,  they  do  not  like 
algebra,  they  have  no  taste  for  mathematics  ; which  only 
means  that  they  do  not  like  application,  they  do  not 
like  attention,  they  shrink  from  the  effort  and  labour  of 
thinking,  and  the  process  of  true  intellectual  gymnastics. 
The  consequence  will  be  that,  when  they  grow  up,  they 
may,  if  it  so  happen,  be  agreeable  in  conversation,  they 
may  be  well  informed  in  this  or  that  department  of 
knowledge,  they  may  be  what  is  called  literary  ; but 
they  will  have  no  consistency,  steadiness,  or  perseve- 
rance ; they  will  not  be  able  to  make  a telling  speech,  or 
to  write  a good  letter,  or  to  fling  in  debate  a smart 
antagonist,  unless  so  far  as,  now  and  then,  mother-wit 
supplies  a sudden  capacity,  which  cannot  be  ordinarily 
counted  on.  They  cannot  state  an  argument  or  a ques- 
tion, or  take  a clear  survey  of  a whole  transaction,  or 
give  sensible  and  appropriate  advice  under  difficulties,  or 
do  any  of  those  things  which  inspire  confidence  and  gain 
influence,  which  raise  a man  in  life,  and  make  him  useful 
to  his  religion  or  his  country. 

And  now,  having  instanced  what  I mean  by  the  want 
of  accuracy,  and  stated  the  results  in  which  I think  it 
issues,  I proceed  to  sketch,  by  way  of  contrast,  an  ex- 
amination which  displays  a student,  who,  whatever  may 
be  his  proficiency,  at  least  knows  what  he  is  about,  and 
has  tried  to  master  what  he  has  read.  I am  far  from 
saying  that  every  candidate  for  admission  must  come  up 
to  its  standard  : — 

T.  I think  you  have  named  Cicero’s  Letters  ad  Fami- 
liares,  Mr.  Black  i Open,  if  you  please,  at  Book  xi., 
Epistle  29,  and  begin  reading. 


Elementary  Studies, 


343 


C,  reads,  Cicero  Appio  salutem.  Dubitanti  mihi  (quod 
scit  Atticus  noster),  de  hoc  toto  consilio  profectionis,  quod 
in  utramque  partem  in  mentem  multa  veniebant,  magnum 
pondus  accessit  ad  tollendam  dubitationem,  judicium  et 
consilium  tuum.  Nam  et  scripsisti  aperte,  quid  tibi  vide- 
retur  ; et  Atticus  ad  me  sermonem  tuum  pertulit.  Semper 
judicavi,in  te,  et  in  capiendo  consilio  prudentiam  summam 
esse,  et  in  dando  fidem ; maximeque  sum  expertus,  ciim, 
initio  civilis  belli,  per  literas  te  consuluissem  quid  mihi 
faciendum  esse  censeres  ; eundumne  ad  Pompeium  an 
manendum  in  Italia. 

T,  Very  well,  stop  there  ; Now  construe.  C,  Cicero 
Appio  salutem.  . . Cicero  greets  Appius, 

T,  Greets  Appius!'  True  ; but  it  sounds  stiff  in 
English,  doesn’t  it  ? What  is  the  real  English  of  it  ? 
C,  ''  My  dear  Appius  ? ” . . . 

T,  That  will  do  ; go  on.  C.  Dubitanti  mihi,  quod  scit 
Atticus  noster.  While  I was  hesitating^  as  our  friend 
Atticus  knows,  . . 

T,  That  is  right.  C.  De  hoc  toto  consilio  profectionis, 
about  the  whole  plan,  , , entire  project,  , , de  hoc  toto 
consilio  profectionis.  . . on  the  subject  of  my  proposed 
journey,  . . on  my  proposed  journey  altogether, 

T,  Never  mind  ; go  on  ; any  of  them  will  do.  C, 
Quod  in  utramque  partem  in  mentem  multa  veniebant, 
inasmuch  as  many  considerations  both  for  and  against  it 
came  into  my  mindy  magnum  pondus  accessit  ad  tollen- 
dam dubitationem,  it  came  with  great  force  to  remove  my 
hesitation, 

T,  What  do  you  mean  by  ‘‘  accessit  ” } C,  It  means 
it  contributed  to  turn  the  scale;  accessit,  it  was  an  addition 
to  one  side, 

T,  Well,  it  may  mean  so,  but  the  words  run,  ad 
tollendam  dubitationem.  C,  It  was  a ^reat,  . , it  was 


344 


Etenmitary  Studies, 


a powerful  help  towards  removing  my  hesitation,  . . 
no.  . . this  was  a powerful  help^  viz.y  your  judgment  and 
advice. 

T.  Well,  what  is  the  construction  of  ‘‘  pondus  ” and 
‘‘  judicium  ” 1 C.  Your  advice  came  as  a great  weight. 

T.  Very  well,  go  on.  C,  Nam  et  scripsisti  aperte  quid 
tibi  videretur  ; for  you  distinctly  wrote  your  opinion. 

T.  Now,  what  is  the  force  of  ‘‘  nam'’  ? C.  pauses  ; then, 
It  refers  to  “ accessit  ”...  it  is  an  explanation  of  the 
fact,  that  Appius’s  opinion  was  a help. 

T.  Et  ” ; you  omitted  ‘‘  et  ” . . . et  scripsisti.”  C. 
It  is  one  of  two  ets  ” ; et  scripsisti,  et  Atticus. 

T.  Well,  but  why  don’t  you  construe  it  ? C,  Et 
scripsisti,  you  both  distinctly.  . . 

T.  No  ; tell  me,  why  did  you  leave  it  out } had  you  a 
reason  C.  I thought  it  was  only  the  Latin  style,  to 
dress  the  sentence,  to  make  it  antithetical ; and  was  not 
English. 

T.  Very  good,  still,  you  can  express  it ; try.  C.  Also^ 
with  the  second  clause } 

T.  That  is  right,  go  on.  C.  Nam  ei,  for  you  distinctly 
stated  in  writing  your  opinion,  et  Atticus  ad  me  ser- 
monem  tuum  pertulit,  and  Atticus  too  sent  me  word  of 
ivhat  you  said,  ...  of  what  you  said  to  him  in  conver- 
sation. 

T.  ‘‘  Pertulit.”  C.  It  means  that  Atticus  conveyed  on 
to  Cicero  the  conversation  he  had  with  Appius. 

T.  Who  was  Atticus  } C.  is  silent. 

T,  Who  was  Atticus } C.  I didn’t  think  it  came  into 
the  examination.  . . 

T.  Well,  I didn’t  say  it  did  : but  still  you  can  tell  me 
who  Atticus  was.  C.  A great  friend  of  Cicero’s 

T.  Did  he  take  much  part  in  politics  } C.  No. 

T.  What  were  his  opinions } C7.  He  was  an  Epicureaa 


Elementary  Studies. 


345 


T.  What  was  an  Epicurean  ? C.  is  silent^  theUy 
Epicureans  lived  for  themselves. 

T.  You  are  answering  very  well,  sir ; proceed.  C. 
Semper  judicavi,  / have  ever  considered^  in  te,  et  in 
capiendo  consilio  prudentiam  summam  esse,  et  in  dando 
hdem  ; that  your  wisdom  was  of  the  highest  order  . . . 
that  you  had  the  greatest  wisdom  . . . that  nothing  could 
excted  the  wisdom  of  your  resolves ^ or  the  honesty  of  your 
advice. 

T.  Fidem.*'  C.  It  means  faithfulness  to  the  person 
asking  . . . maximeque  sum  a7td  I had  a great 

proof  of  it. 

T.  Great ; why  don't  you  say  greatest  f maxime 
is  superlative.  C.  The  Latins  use  the  superlative,  when 
they  only  mean  the  positive. 

T.  You  mean,  when  English  uses  the  positive  ; can 
you  give  me  an  instance  of  what  you  mean  } C.  Cicero 
always  speaks  of  others  as  amplissimi,  optimi,  doctissimi, 
clarissimi. 

T.  Do  they  ever  use  the  comparative  for  the  positive 
C.  thinksy  theUy  Certior  factus  sum. 

T.  Well,  perhaps;  however,  here,  ‘‘maxime’'  may  mean 
special  may  it  not } C.  And  1 had  a special  proof  of  ity 
cum,  initio  civilis  belli,  per  literas  te  consuluissem,  when^ 
ofi  the  commencement  of  the  civil  war,  I had  written  to  ask 
your  advice,  quid  mihi  faciendum  esse  censeres,  what  you 
thought  I ought  to  do,  eundumne  ad  Pompeium,  an  ma- 
nendum  in  Italia,  to  go  to  Pompey,  or  to  remain  in  Italy. 

T.  Very  well,  now  stop.  Dubitanti  mihi,  quod  scit 
Atticus  noster.  You  construed  quod,  as.  C.  I meant 
the  relative  as. 

T.  Is  as  a relative  ? C.  As  is  used  in  English  for  the 
relative,  as  when  we  say  such  as  for  those  who. 

T.  Well,  but  why  do  you  use  it  here  ? What  is  the 


346  Elementary  Studies, 

antecedent  to  quod  ” ? C,  The  sentence  Dubitand 
mi  hi,  etc. 

T.  Still,  construe  quod  literally.  C,  A thing  which, 

T,  Where  is  a thing?  C,  It  is  understood. 

T,  Well,  but  put  it  in.  C,  Illud  quod. 

T,  Is  that  right } what  is  the  common  phrase } C,  is 
silent, 

T,  Did  you  ever  see  illud  quod  in  that  position  ? is 
it  the  phrase  } C,  is  silent, 

T,  It  is  commonly  id  quod,^’  isn’t  it } id  quod.  C, 
Oh,  I recollect,  id  quod. 

T,  Well,  which  is  more  common,  ^^quod,”  or  ‘‘id 
quod,”  when  the  sentence  is  the  antecedent } C,  I think 
“id  quod.” 

T,  At  least  it  is  far  more  distinct ; yes,  I think  it  is 
more  common.  What  could  you  put  instead  of  it } C. 
Quod  quidem. 

T,  Now,  dubitand  mihi ; what  is  “mihi”  governed 
by  "i  C,  Accessit. 

7".  No  ; hardly.  C,  is  silent, 

T,  Does  “ accessit  ” govern  the  dative } C.  I thought 
it  did. 

T,  Well,  it  may ; but  would  Cicero  use  the  dative 
after  it  ? what  is  the  more  common  practice  with  words 
of  motion  ? Do  you  say,  Venit  mihi,  he  came  to  me?  C, 
No,  Venit  ad  me  ; — I recollect. 

T,  That  is  right ; venit  ad  me.  Now,  for  instance, 
“incumbo:”  what  case  does  “incumbo”  govern.!^  C.  In- 
cumbite  remis  ^ 

T,  Where  is  that. in  Cicero.^  C,  No,  in  Virgil.  Cicero 
uses  “ in  ” ; I recollect,  incumbere  in  opus  ...  ad  opus. 

T,  Well,  then,  is  this  “ mihi  ” governed  by  “accessit  ” 1 
what  comes  after  accessit  ? C,  \ see ; it  is,  accessit  ad 
tollendam  dubitationem. 


Elementary  Studies.  347 

T.  That  is  right ; but  then,  what  after  all  do  you  do 
with  “ mihi  ” ? how  is  it  governed  ? C.  is  silent. 

T.  How  is  ''mihi ''  governed,  if  it  does  not  come  after 
" accessit ? C.  pauses,  then,  " Mihi  ” . . . " mihi ''  is 
often  used  so  ; and  " tibi  and  " sibi  : I mean  " suo 
sibi  gladio  hunc  jugulo  ‘ ' ; . . . "venit  mihi  in  mentem  ; 
that  is,  it  came  into  my  mind ; and  so,  "accessit  mihi  ad 
tollendam,”  etc. 

T,  That  is  very  right.  C.  I recollect  somewhere  in 
Horace,  vellunt  tibi  barbam. 

Etc.,  etc. 

4- 

And  now,  my  patient  reader,  I suspect  you  have  had 
enough  of  me  on  this  subject ; and  the  best  I can  expect 
from  you  is,  that  you  will  say : "His  first  pages  had  some 
amusement  in  them,  but  he  is  dullish  towards  the  end.’' 
Perhaps  so  ; but  then  you  must  kindly  bear  in  mind 
that  the  latter  part  is  about  a steady  careful  youth,  and 
the  earlier  part  is  not ; and  that  goodness,  exactness, 
and  diligence,  and  the  correct  and  the  unexceptionable, 
though  vastly  more  desirable  than  their  contraries  in 
fact,  are  not  near  so  entertaining  in  fiction. 


348 


§ 2. — Composition. 

I 

I AM  able  to  present  the  reader  by  anticipation  witn 
the  correspondence  which  will  pass  between  Mr. 
Brown's  father  and  Mr.  White,  the  tutor,  on  the  subject 
of  Mr.  Brown’s  examination  for  entrance  at  the  Univer- 
sity. And,  in  doing  so,  let  me  state  the  reason  why  I 
dwell  on  what  many  will  think  an  extreme  case,  or  even 
a caricature.  I do  so,  because  what  may  be  called  exag- 
geration is  often  the  best  means  of  bringing  out  certain 
faults  of  the  mind  which  do  indeed  exist  commonly,  if 
not  in  that  degree.  If  a master  in  carriage  and  deport- 
ment wishes  to  carry  home  to  one  of  his  boys  that  he 
slouches,  he  will  caricature  the  boy  himself,  by  way  of 
impressing  on  the  boy’s  intellect  a sort  of  abstract  and 
typical  representation  of  the  ungraceful  habit  which  he 
wishes  corrected.  When  we  once  have  the  simple  and 
perfect  ideas  of  things  in  our  minds,  we  refer  the  parti- 
cular and  partial  manifestations  of  them  to  these  types  ; 
we  recognize  what  they  are,  good  or  bad,  as  we  never 
did  before,  and  we  have  a guide  set  up  within  us  to 
direct  our  course  by.  So  it  is  with  principles  of  taste, 
good  breeding,  or  of  conventional  fashion  ; so  it  is  in 
the  fine  arts,  in  painting,  or  in  music.  We  cannot  even 
understand  the  criticism  passed  on  these  subjects  until 
we  have  set  up  for  ourselves  the  ideal  standard  of  what 
is  admirable  and  what  is  absurd. 

So  is  it  with  the  cultivation  and  discipline  of  the  mind, 


Elementary  Studies. 


349 


as  it  should  be  conducted  at  College  and  University,  and 
as  it  manifests  itself  afterwards  in  life.  Clearness  of 
head,  accuracy,  scholarlike  precision,  method,  and  the 
like,  are  ideas  obvious  to  point  out,  and  easy  to  grasp ; 
yet  they  do  not  suggest  themselves  to  youths  at  once, 
and  have  to  be  urged  and  inflicted  upon  them.  And 
this  is  done  best  by  a caricature  of  their  opposites. 

And,  as  I am  now  going  to  continue  the  caricature  by 
bringing  in  Mr.  Brown’s  father  as  well  as  himself,  I have 
to  make  a fresh  explanation,  lest  I should  seem  to 
imply  there  are  fathers  altogether  such  as  he  will  prove 
to  be.  I do  not  mean  to  say  there  are ; yet  it  may 
easily  happen  that  many  excellent  fathers,  many  even 
able  and  thoughtful  men,  may  be  found,  who  in  a certain 
measure  are  under  the  bias  of  that  error  of  which  Mr. 
Brown  senior  is  the  typical  instance,  and  who  may  be 
led  possibly  to  reconsider  some  of  their  views,  and  in  a 
measure  to  modify  them,  if  they  are  confronted  with 
an  exhibition  of  them  in  their  full  dimensions ; — and 
that,  in  consequence  of  their  being  forced  to  master  the 
typical  representation,  though  the  error  is  never  found 
thus  pure  and  complete  in  fact,  but  only  in  degrees  and 
portions,  so  that,  when  represented  pure,  it  is  called,  and 
may  fairly  be  called,  a caricature.  With  this  explana- 
tion of  my  meaning,  and  this  apology  in  anticipation,  I 
hope  to  be  able  without  misconstruction  to  put  before 
the  reader  the  correspondence  of  which  I have  spoken. 

2. 

Mr.  Brown,  jun.^  to  his  father. 

My  dear  Father, 

It  seems  odd  I never  was  in  Dublin  before,  though 
we  have  been  now  some  time  in  Ireland.  Well,  I find 


350 


Elementary  Studies, 


it  a handsomer  place  than  I thought  for — really  a re- 
spectable town.  But  it  is  sadly  behind  the  world  in 
many  things.  Think  of  its  having  no  Social  Science,  not 
even  a National  Gallery  or  British  Museum  ! nor  have 
they  any  high  art  here  : some  good  public  buildings,  but 
very  pagan.  The  bay  is  a fine  thing. 

I called  with  your  letter  on  Mr.  Black,  who  intro- 
duced me  to  the  professors,  some  of  whom,  judging  by 
their  skulls,  are  clever  men. 

There  is  a lot  here  for  examination,  and  an  Exhi- 
bition is  to  be  given  to  the  best.  I should  like  to  get  it. 
Young  Black, — you  saw  him  once, — is  one  of  them  ; I 
knew  him  at  school ; he  is  a large  fellow  now,  though 
younger  than  I am.  If  he  be  the  best  of  them,  I shall 
not  be  much  afraid. 

Well — in  I went  yesterday,  and  was  examined.  It 
was  such  a queer  concern.  One  of  the  junior  Tutors  had 
me  up,  and  he  must  be  a new  hand,  he  was  so  uneasy. 
He  gave  me  the  slowest  examination  ! I don't  know 
to  this  minute  what  he  was  at.  He  first  said  a word  or 
two,  and  then  was  silent.  He  then  asked  me  why  we 
came  up  to  Dublin,  and  did  not  go  down ; and  put  some 
absurd  little  questions  about  Baivco.  I was  tolerably 
satisfied  with  myself,  but  he  gave  me  no  opportunity  to 
show  off.  He  asked  me  literally  nothing ; he  did  not 
even  give  me  a passage  to  construe  for  a long  time,  and 
then  gave  me  nothing  more  than  two  or  three  easy 
sentences.  And  he  kept  playing  with  his  paper  knife, 
and  saying  : ‘ How  are  you  now,  Mr.  Brown  } don't  be 
alarmed,  Mr.  Brown  ; take  your  time,  Mr.  Brown  ; you 
know  very  well,  Mr.  Brown  ; ' so  that  I could  hardly 
help  laughing.  I never  was  less  afraid  in  my  life.  It 
would  be  wonderful  if  such  an  examination  could  put  me 
out  of  countenance. 


Elementary  Studies. 


351 


‘^There’s  a lot  of  things  which  I know  very  well, 
which  the  Examiner  said  not  a word  about.  Indeed,  I 
think  I have  been  getting  up  a great  many  things  for 
nothing ; — provoking  enough.  I had  read  a good  deal 
of  Grote  ; but  though  I told  him  so,  he  did  not  ask  me 
one  question  in  it ; and  there’s  Whewell,  Macaulay,  and 
Schlegel,  all  thrown  away. 

He  has  not  said  a word  yet  where  I am  to  be 
lodged.  He  looked  quite  confused  when  I asked  him. 
He  is,  I suspect,  a character. 

**  Your  dutiful  son,  etc., 

Robert.” 

Mr.  White  to  Mr.  BrowUy  sen. 

My  dear  Sir, 

I have  to  acknowledge  the  kind  letter  you  sent 
me  by  your  son,  and  I am  much  pleased  to  find  the 
confidence  you  express  in  us.  Your  son  seems  an 
amiable  young  man,  of  studious  habits,  and  there  is 
every  hope,  when  he  joins  us,  of  his  passing  his  academi- 
cal career  with  respectability,  and  his  examination  with 
credit.  This  is  what  I should  have  expected  from  his 
telling  me  that  he  had  been  educated  at  home  under 
your  own  paternal  eye ; indeed,  if  I do  not  mistake,  you 
have  undertaken  the  interesting  office  of  instructor  your- 
self. 

‘‘  I hardly  know  what  best  to  recommend  to  him  at 
the  moment : his  reading  has  been  desultory ; he  knows 
something  about  a great  many  things,  of  which  youths  of 
his  age  commonly  know  nothing.  Of  course  we  could 
take  him  into  residence  now,  if  you  urge  it ; but  my 
advice  is  that  he  should  first  direct  his  efforts  to  distinct 
preparation  for  our  examination,  and  to  study  its  par- 


352 


ElemefUary  Studies. 


ticular  character.  Our  rule  is  to  recommend  youths  to 
do  a little  zvell,  instead  of  throwing  themselves  upon  a 
large  field  of  study.  I conceive  it  to  be  your  son’s  fault 
of  mind  not  to  see  exactly  the  point  of  things,  nor  to  be 
so  well  grounded  as  he  might  be.  Young  men  are  in- 
deed always  wanting  in  accuracy  ; this  kind  of  deficiency 
is  not  peculiar  to  him,  and  he  will  doubtless  soon  over- 
come it  when  he  sets  about  it. 

‘‘  On  the  whole,  then,  if  you  will  kindly  send  him  up 
six  months  hence  he  will  be  more  able  to  profit  by  our 
lectures.  I will  tell  him  what  to  read  in  the  meanwhile. 
Did  it  depend  on  me,  I should  send  him  for  that  time  to 
a good  school  or  college,  or  I could  find  you  a private 
Tutor  for  him. 

I am,  etc.” 

Mr,  BrowUy  sen.y  to  Mr.  White. 

“Sir, 

“ Your  letter,  which  I have  received  by  this  morning’s 
post,  is  gratifying  to  a parent’s  feelings,  so  far  as  it  bears 
witness  to  the  impression  which  my  son’s  amiableness 
and  steadiness  have  made  on  you.  He  is  indeed  a 
most  exemplary  lad : fathers  are  partial,  and  their  word 
about  their  children  is  commonly  not  to  be  taken  ; but 
I flatter  myself  that  the  present  case  is  an  exception  to 
the  rule ; for,  if  ever  there  was  a well-conducted  youth, 
it  is  my  dear  son.  He  is  certainly  very  clever;  and  a 
closer  student,  and,  for  his  age,  of  more  extensive  read- 
ing and  sounder  judgment,  does  not  exist. 

With  this  conviction,  you  will  excuse  me  if  I say 
that  there  were  portions  of  your  letter  which  I could  not 
reconcile  with  that  part  of  it  to  which  I have  been  allud- 
ing. You  say  he  is  ‘ a young  man  of  studious  habits  I 
having  ‘ every  hope  of  passing  his  academical  career  with 


Elementary  Studies.  353 

respectability,  and  his  examination  with  credit you 
allow  that  *he  knows  something  about  a great  ma7iy 
things,  of  which  youths  of  his  age  commonly  know  no- 
thing:'  no  common  commendation,  I consider;  yet,  in 
spite  of  this,  you  recommend,  though  you  do  not  exact, 
as  a complete  disarrangement  of  my  plans  (for  I do  not 
know  how  long  my  duties  will  keep  me  in  Ireland),  a 
postponement  of  his  coming  into  residence  for  six 
months. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  suggest  an  explanation  of  this 
inconsistency  ? It  is  found  in  your  confession  that  the 
examination  is  of  a ^ particular  character.'  Of  course  it 
is  very  right  in  the  governors  of  a great  Institution  to  be 
‘ particular,'  and  it  is  not  for  me  to  argue  with  them. 
Nevertheless,  I cannot  help  saying,  that  at  this  day 
nothing  is  so  much  wanted  in  education  general^inow- 
ledge.  This  alone  will  fit  a youth  for  the  world.  In  a 
less  stirring  time,  it  may  be  well  enough  to  delay  in 
particularities,  and  to  trifle  over  minutiae  ; but  the  world 
will  not  stand  still  for  us,  and,  unless  we  are  up  to  its 
requisitions,  we  shall  find  ourselves  thrown  out  of  the 
contest.  A man  must  have  something  in  him  now,  to 
make  his  way ; and  the  sooner  we  understand  this,  the 
better. 

It  mortified  me,  I confess,  to  hear  from  my  son,  that 
you  did  not  try  him  in  a greater  number  of  subjects,  in 
handling  which  he  would  probably  have  changed  your 
opinion  of  him.  He  has  a good  memory,  and  a great 
talent  for  history,  ancient  and  modern,  especially  con- 
stitutional and  parliamentary ; another  favourite  study 
with  him  is  the  philosophy  of  history.  He  has  read 
Pritchard's  Physical  History,  Cardinal  Wiseman's  Lec- 
tures on  Science,  Bacon's  Advancement  of  Learning^ 
Macaulay,  and  Hallam:  I never  met  with  a faster  reader. 

23 


354 


Elementary  Studies. 


I have  let  him  attend,  in  England,  some  of  the  most 
talented  lecturers  in  chemistry,  geology,  and  comparative 
anatomy,  and  he  sees  the  Quarterly  Reviews  and  the 
best  Magazines,  as  a matter  of  course.  Yet  on  these 
matters  not  a word  of  examination  ! 

I have  forgotten  to  mention,  he  has  a very  pretty 
idea  of  poetical  composition  : I enclose  a fragment 
which  I have  found  on  his  table,  as  well  as  one  of  his 
prose  Essays. 

Allow  me,  as  a warm  friend  of  your  undertaking,  to 
suggest,  that  the  substance  of  knowledge  is  far  more  valu- 
able than  its  technicalities ; and  that  the  vigour  of  the 
youthful  mind  is  but  wasted  on  barren  learning,  and  its 
ardour  is  quenched  in  dry  disquisition. 

I have  the  honour  to  be,  etc.” 

On  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  Mr.  White  will  find,  to 
his  dissatisfaction,  that  he  has  not  advanced  one  hair’s 
breadth  in  bringing  home  to  Mr.  Brown’s  father  the  real 
state  of  the  case,  and  has  done  no  more  than  present 
himself  as  a mark  for  certain  commonplaces,  very  true, 
but  very  inappropriate  to  the  matter  in  hand.  Filled 
with  this  disappointing  thought,  for  a while  he  will  not 
inspect  the  enclosures  of  Mr.  Brown’s  letter,  being  his 
son’s  attempts  at  composition.  At  length  he  opens  them, 
and  reads  as  follows  : 

Mr.  Browfi s poetry. 

THE  TAKING  OF  SEBASTOPOL.* 

Oh,  might  I flee  to  Araby  the  blest, 

The  world  forgetting,  but  its  gifts  possessed. 

Where  fair-eyed  peace  holds  sway  from  shore  to  shore, 

And  wads  shrill  clarion  frights  the  air  no  more. 

* This  was  written  in  June,  1854,  before  the  siege  began. 


Elementary  Studies. 


355 


Heard  ye  the  cloud-compelling  blast  ♦ awake  (*  Bombarding^ 

The  slumbers  of  the  inhospitable  lake  ? f (+  The  Black  Sea) 

Saw  ye  the  banner  in  its  pride  unfold 
The  blush  of  crimson  and  the  blaze  of  gold  ? 

Raglan  and  St.  Arnaud,  in  high  command, 

Have  steamed  from  old  Byzantium’s  hoary  strand  ; 

The  famed  Cyanean  rocks  presaged  their  fight, 

Twin  giants,  with  the  astonished  Muscovite. 

So  the  loved  maid,  in  Syria’s  balmy  noon. 

Forebodes  the  coming  of  the  hot  simoon, 

And  sighs 

And  longs 

And  dimly  traces 

*****## 

Mr,  Browns  prose. 

‘‘FORTES  FORTUNA  ADJUVAT.” 

Of  all  the  uncertain  and  capricious  powers  which  rule 
our  earthly  destiny,  fortune  is  the  chief.  Who  has  not 
heard  of  the  poor  being  raised  up,  and  the  rich  being  laid 
low  } Alexander  the  Great  said  he  envied  Diogenes  in 
his  tub,  because  Diogenes  could  have  nothing  less.  We 
need  not  go  far  for  an  instance  of  fortune.  Who  was  so 
great  as  Nicholas,  the  Czar  of  all  the  Russias,  a year 
ago,  and  now  he  is  fallen,  fallen  from  his  high  estate, 
without  a friend  to  grace  his  obsequies.”  J The  Turks 
are  the  finest  specimen  of  the  human  race,  yet  they,  too, 
have  experienced  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune.  Horace 
says  that  we  should  wrap  ourselves  in  our  virtue,  when 
fortune  changes.  Napoleon,  too,  shows  us  how  little  we 
can  rely  on  fortune ; but  his  faults,  great  as  they  were, 
are  being  redeemed  by  his  nephew,  Louis  Napoleon,  who 
has  shown  himself  very  different  from  what  we  expected, 
J Here  again  Mr.  Brown  prophesies.  He  wrote  in  June,  1854. 


35t)  Elementary  Studies. 

though  he  has  never  explained  how  he  came  to  swear  to 
the  Constitution,  and  then  mounted  the  imperial  throne. 

From  all  this  it  appears,  that  we  should  rely  on  for- 
tune only  while  it  remains, — recollecting  the  words  of 
the  thesis,  ^Fortes  fortuna  adjuvat;’  and  that,  above  all, 
we  should  ever  cultivate  those  virtues  which  will  never 
fail  us,  and  which  are  a sure  basis  of  respectability,  and 
will  profit  us  here  and  hereafter.” 

On  reading  these  compositions  over,  Mr.  White  will 
take  to  musing ; then  he  will  reflect  that  he  may  as  well 
spare  himself  the  trouble  of  arguing  with  a correspondent, 
whose  principle  and  standard  of  judgment  is  so  different 
from  his  own ; and  so  he  will  write  a civil  letter  back  to 
Mr.  Brown,  enclosing  the  two  papers. 

3* 

Mr.  Brown,  however,  has  not  the  resignation  of  Mr. 
White  ; and,  on  his  Dublin  friend,  Mr.  Black,  paying 
him  a visit,  he  will  open  his  mind  to  him  ; and  I am 
going  to  tell  the  reader  all  that  will  pass  between  the 
two. 

Mr.  Black  is  a man  of  education  and  of  judgment.  He 
knows  the  difference  between  show  and  substance ; he  is 
penetrated  with  the  conviction  that  Rome  was  not  built 
in  a day,  that  buildings  will  not  stand  without  founda- 
tions, and  that,  if  boys  are  to  be  taught  well,  they  must 
be  taught  slowly,  and  step  by  step.  Moreover,  he  thinks 
in  his  secret  heart  that  his  own  son  Harry,  whose  ac- 
quaintance we  have  already  formed,  is  worth  a dozen 
young  Browns.  To  him,  then,  not  quite  an  impartial 
judge,  Mr.  Brown  unbosoms  his  dissatisfaction,  present- 
ing to  him  his  son's  Theme  as  an  experimentum  crucis 
between  him  and  Mr.  White.  Mr.  Black  reads  it 


Elementary  Studies,  357 

through  once,  and  then  a second  time ; and  then  he 
observes — 

‘‘Well,  it  is  only  the  sort  of  thing  which  any  boy 
would  write,  neither  better  nor  worse.  I speak  candidly.'^ 

On  Mr.  Brown  expressing  disappointment,  inasmuch 
as  the  said  Theme  is  not  the  sort  of  thing  which  any  boy 
could  write,  Mr.  Black  continues — 

“ There's  not  one  word  of  it  upon  the  thesis ; but  all 
boys  write  in  this  way." 

Mr.  Brown  directs  his  friend  s attention  to  the  know- 
ledge of  ancient  history  which  the  composition  displays, 
of  Alexander  and  Diogenes;  of  the  history  of  Napoleon  ; 
to  the  evident  interest  which  the  young  author  takes  in 
contemporary  history,  and  his  prompt  application  of 
passing  events  to  his  purpose  ; moreover,  to  the  apposite 
quotation  from  Dryden,  and  the  reference  to  Horace  ; — 
all  proofs  of  a sharp  wit  and  a literary  mind. 

But  Mr.  Black  is  more  relentlessly  critical  than  the 
occasion  needs,  and  more  pertinacious  than  any  father 
can  comfortably  bear.  He  proceeds  to  break  the  butter- 
fly on  the  wheel  in  the  following  oration  : — 

“Now  look  here,"  he  says,  “the  subject  is  ‘Fortes 
fortuna  adjuvat'  ; now  this  is  a proposition  ; it  states  a 
certain  general  principle,  and  this  is  just  what  an  ordinary 
boy  would  be  sure  to  miss,  and  Robert  does  miss  it. 
He  goes  off  at  once  on  the  word  ‘ fortuna.'  ‘ Fortuna' 
was  not  his  subject ; the  thesis  was  intended  to  £uidehim, 
for  his  own  good  ; he  refuses  to  be  put  into  leading- 
strings  ; he  breaks  loose,  and  runs  off  in  his  own  fashion 
on  the  broad  field  and  in  wild  chase  of  ‘ fortune,'  instead 
of  closing  with  a subject,  which,  as  being  definite,  would 
have  supported  him. 

“ It  would  have  been  very  cruel  to  have  told  a boy  to 
write  on  ‘fortune';  it  would  have  been  like  asking  him 


358 


Elementary  Studies. 


his  opinion  ‘of  things  in  general.’  Fortune  is  ‘good,’ 
‘bad/  ‘ capricious/  ‘ unexpected,^  ten  thousand  things  all 
at  once  (you  see  them  all  in  the  Gradus),  and  one  of 
them  as  much  as  the  other.  Ten  thousand  things  may 
be  said  of  it : give  me  one  of  them,  and  I will  write  upon 
it ; I cannot  write  on  more  than  one ; Robert  prefers  to 
write  upon  all. 

“ ‘ Fortune  favours  the  bold  ; ' here  is  a very  definite 
subject:  take  hold  of  it,  and  it  will  steady  and  lead  you 
on  : you  will  know  in  what  direction  to  look.  Not  one 
boy  in  a hundred  does  avail  himself  of  this  assistance ; 
your  boy  is  not  solitary  in  his  inaccuracy  ; all  boys  are 
more  or  less  inaccurate,  because  they  are  boys  ; boyish- 
ness of  mind  means  inaccuracy.  Boys  cannot  deliver  a 
message,  or  execute  an  order,  or  relate  an  occurrence, 
without  a blunder.  They  do  not  rouse  up  their  attention 
and  reflect : they  do  not  like  the  trouble  of  it : they 
cannot  look  at  anything  steadily ; and,  when  they 
attempt  to  write,  off  they  go  in  a rigmarole  of  words, 
which  does  them  no  good,  and  never  would,  though  they 
scribbled  themes  till  they  wrote  their  fingers  off. 

“ A really  clever  youth,  especially  as  his  mind  opens, 
is  impatient  of  this  defect  of  mind,  even  though,  as  being 
a youth,  he  be  partially  under  its  influence.  He  shrinks 
from  a vague  subject,  as  spontaneously  as  a slovenly 
mind  takes  to  it  ; and  he  will  often  show  at  disadvan- 
tage, and  seem  ignorant  and  stupid,  from  seeing  more 
and  knowing  more,  and  having  a clearer  perception  of 
things  than  another  has.  I recollect  once  hearing  such 
a young  man,  in  the  course  of  an  examination,  asked 
very  absurdly  what  ‘ his  opinion’  was  of  Lord  Chatham. 
Well,  this  was  like  asking  him  his  view  of  ‘ things  in 
general.’  The  poor  youth  stuck,  and  looked  like  a fool, 
though  it  was  not  he.  The  examiner,  blind  to  his  own 


Elementary  Studies. 


359 


alDSurdity,  went  on  to  ask  him  ‘ what  were  the  charac- 
teristics of  English  history.'  Another  silence,  and  the 
poor  fellow  seemed  to  lookers-on  to  be  done  for,  when 
his  only  fault  was  that  he  had  better  sense  than  his 
interrogator. 

When  I hear  such  questions  put,  I admire  the  tact 
of  the  worthy  Milnwood  in  Old  Mortality^  when  in  a 
similar  predicament.  Sergeant  Bothwell  broke  into  his 
house  and  dining-room  in  the  king's  name,  and  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  the  murder  of  the  Archbishop  of 
St.  Andrew's;  the  old  man  was  far  too  prudent  to  hazard 
any  opinion  of  his  own,  even  on  a precept  of  the  Decalogue, 
when  a trooper  called  for  it ; so  he  glanced  his  eye  down 
the  Royal  Proclamation  in  the  Sergeant's  hand,  and  ap- 
propriated its  sentiments  as  an  answer  to  the  question 
before  him.  Thereby  he  was  enabled  to  pronounce  the 
said  assassination  to  be  ^savage,'  Treacherous,'  ‘diabolical,' 
and  ‘ contrary  to  the  king’s  peace  and  the  security  of  the 
subject;'  to  the  edification  of  all  present,  and  the  satis- 
faction of  the  military  inquisitor.  It  was  in  some  such 
way  my  young  friend  got  off.  His  guardian  angel  re- 
minded him  in  a whisper  that  Mr.  Grey,  his  examiner, 
had  himself  written  a book  on  Lord  Chatham  and  his 
times.  This  set  him  up  at  once  ; he  drew  boldly  on  his 
knowledge  of  his  man  for  the  political  views  advanced  in 
it;  was  at  no  loss  for  definite  propositions  to  suit  his  pur- 
pose; recovered  his  ground,  and  came  off  triumphantly." 

Here  Mr.  Black  stops;  and  Mr.  Brown  takes  advantage 
of  the  pause  to  insinuate  that  Mr.  Black  is  not  himself  a 
disciple  of  his  own  philosophy,  having  travelled  some 
way  from  his  subject; — his  friend  stands  corrected,  and 
retraces  his  steps. 

“ The  thesis,"  he  begins  again,  “is  ‘Fortune  favours 
the  brave ; ' Robert  has  gone  off  with  the  nominative 


36o 


Eleme7itary  Studies. 


without  waiting  for  verb  and  accusative.  He  might  as 
easily  have  gone  off  upon  ‘brave/  or  upon  ‘favour/  except 
that  ‘fortune'  comes  first.  He  does  not  merely  ramble 
from  his  subject,  but  he  starts  from  a false  point.  Nothing 
could  go  right  after  this  beginning,  for  having  never  gone 
off  his  subject  (as  I did  off  mine),  he  never  could  come 
back  to  it.  However,  at  least  he  might  have  kept  to 
some  subject  or  other;  he  might  have  shown  some  exact- 
ness or  consecutiveness  in  detail ; but  just  the  contrary  ; 
— observe.  He  begins  by  calling  fortune  ‘a  power' ; let 
that  pass.  Next,  it  is  one  of  the  powers  ‘which  rule 
our  earthly  destiny,'  that  fortune  rules  destiny.  Why, 
where  there  is  fortune,  there  is  no  destiny ; where  there 
is  destiny,  there  is  no  fortune.  Next,  after  stating  gene- 
rally that  fortune  raises  or  depresses,  he  proceeds  to  ex- 
emplify: there's  Alexander,  for  instance,  and  Diogenes, — 
instances,  that  is,  of  what  fortune  did  not  do,  for  they  died, 
as  they  lived,  in  their  respective  states  of  life.  Then  comes 
the  Emperor  Nicholas  hie  et  nunc;  with  the  Turks  on  the 
other  hand,  place  and  time  and  case  not  stated.  Then 
examples  are  dropped,  and  we  are  turned  over  to  poetry, 
and  what  we  ought  to  do,  according  to  Horace,  when  for- 
tune changes.  Next,  we  are  brought  back  to  our  exam- 
ples, in  order  to  commence  a series  of  rambles,  beginning 
with  Napoleon  the  First.  Apropos  of  Napoleon  the  First 
comes  in  Napoleon  the  Third  ; this  leads  us  to  observe 
that  the  latter  has  acted  ‘ very  differently  from  what  we 
expected;'  and  this  again  to  the  further  remark,  that  no 
explanation  has  yet  been  given  of  his  getting  rid  of  the 
Constitution.  He  then  ends  by  boldly  quoting  the  thesis, 
in  proof  that  we  may  rely  on  fortune,  when  we  cannot 
help  it;  and  by  giving  us  advice,  sound,  but  unexpected, 
to  cultivate  virtue." 

“ O ! Black,  it  is  quite  ludicrous  "...  breaks  in  Mr. 


Ele7ne7itary  Studies.  3.61 

Brown  ; — this  Mr.  Brown  must  be  a very  good-tempered 
man,  or  he  would  not  bear  so  much:-— this  is  my  remark, 
not  Mr.  Black’s,  who  will  not  be  interrupted,  but  only 
raises  his  voice : Now,  I know  how  this  Theme  was 
written,”  he  says,  first  one  sentence,  and  then  your  boy 
sat  thinking,  and  devouring  the  end  of  his  pen ; presently 
down  went  the  second,  and  so  on.  The  rule  is,  first 
think,  and  then  write:  don’t  write  when  you  have  nothing 
to  say ; or,  if  you  do,  you  will  make  a mess  of  it.  A 
thoughtful  youth  may  deliver  himself  clumsily,  he  may 
set  down  little  ; but  depend  upon  it,  his  half  sentences 
will  be  worth  more  than  the  folio  sheet  of  another  boy, 
and  an  experienced  examiner  will  see  it 

‘‘  Now,  I will  prophesy  one  thing  of  Robert,  unless  this 
fault  is  knocked  out  of  him,”  continues  merciless  Mr. 
Black.  ‘‘When  he  grows  up,  and  has  to  make  a speech, 
or  write  a letter  for  the  papers,  he  will  look  out  for 
flowers,  full-blown  flowers,  figures,  smart  expressions,  trite 
quotations,  hackneyed  beginnings  and  endings,  pompous 
circumlocutions,  and  so  on : but  the  meaning,  the  sense, 
the  solid  sense,  the  foundation,  you  may  hunt  the  slipper 
long  enough  before  you  catch  it.” 

“Well,”  says  Mr.  Brown,  a little  chafed,  “you  are  a 
great  deal  worse  than  Mr.  White  ; you  have  missed  your 
vocation  : you  ought  to  have  been  a schoolmaster.”  Yet 
he  goes  home  somewhat  struck  by  what  his  friend  has 
said,  and  turns  it  in  his  mind  for  some  time  to  come, 
when  he  gets  there.  He  is  a sensible  man  at  bottom,  as 
well  as  good-tempered,  this  Mr  Brown. 


§.  3 — Latin  Writing, 


I. 

Mr.  white,  the  Tutor,  is  more  and  more  pleased 
with  young  Mr.  Black ; and,  when  the  latter  asks 
him  for  some  hints  for  writing  Latin,  Mr.  White  takes 
him  into  his  confidence  and  lends  him  a number  of  his 
own  papers.  Among  others  he  puts  the  following  into 
Mr.  Black's  hands. 

Mr,  White's  view  of  Latin  translation. 

There  are  four  requisites  of  good  Composition, — cor- 
rectness of  vocabulary,  or  diction,  syntax,  idiom,  and 
elegance.  Of  these,  the  two  first  need  no  explanation, 
and  are  likely  to  be  displayed  by  every  candidate.  The 
last  is  desirable  indeed,  but  not  essential.  The  point 
which  requires  especial  attention  is  idiomatic  propriety. 

By  idiom  is  meant  that  use  of  words  which  is  peculiar 
to  a particular  language.  Two  nations  may  have  corre- 
sponding words  for  the  same  ideas,  yet  differ  altogether 
in  their  mode  of  using  those  words.  For  instance,  ^ et ' 
means  ^ and,'  yet  it  does  not  always  admit  of  being  used 
in  Latin,  where  ‘ and  ’ is  used  in  English.  ‘ Faire  ' may 
be  French  for  ^ do^;  yet  in  a particular  phrase,  for  ^ How 
do  you  do  V ' faire ' is  not  used,  but  ‘se  porter,'  viz,,  ^ Com- 
ment vous  portez-vous  ? ' An  Englishman  or  a French- 
man would  be  almost  unintelligible  and  altogether  ridi- 
culous to  each  other,  who  used  the  French  or  English 
words,  with  the  idioms  or  peculiar  uses  of  his  own  Ian- 


Elementary  Studies. 


363 


guage.  Hence,  the  most  complete  and  exact  acquain- 
tance with  dictionary  and  grammar  will  utterly  fail  to 
teach  a student  to  write  or  compose.  Something  more 
is  wanted,  viz.y  the  knowledge  of  the  use  of  words  and 
constructions,  or  the  knowledge  of  idiom, 

‘‘Take  the  following  English  of  a modern  writer: 

“ ‘ This  is  a serious  consideration  : — Among  men,  as 
among  wild  beasts,  the  taste  of  blood  creates  the 
appetite  for  it,  and  the  appetite  for  it  is  strengthened 
by  indulgence.* 

“ Translate  it  word  for  word  literally  into  Latin, 
thus  : — 

“ ‘ Hsec  est  seria  consideratio.  Inter  homines,  ut  inter 
feras,  gustus  sanguinis  creat  ejus  appetitum,  et  ejus 
appetitus  indulgentia  roboratur.* 

“ Purer  Latin,  as  far  as  diction  is  concerned,  more 
correct,  as  far  as  syntax^  cannot  be  desired.  Every  word 
is  classical,  every  construction  grammatical : yet  Latinity 
it  simply  has  none.  From  beginning  to  end  it  follows 
the  English  mode  of  speaking,  or  English  idiom,  not  the 
Latin. 

“ In  proportion,  then,  as  a candidate  advances  from 
this  Anglicism  into  Latinity,  so  far  does  he  write  good 
Latin. 

“ We  might  make  the  following  remarks  upon  the 
above  literal  version. 

“ I.  ‘ Consideratio  * is  not  consideration;*  the  Latins, 
having  no  article,  are  driven  to  expedients  to  supply  its 
place,  e,g.^  quidam  is  sometimes  used  for  a. 

“ 2.  ‘ Consideratio  * is  not  ‘ a consideration,*  a thing 
considered,  or  a subject ; but  the  act  of  considering. 

“ 3.  It  must  never  be  forgotten,  that  such  words  as 
‘consideratio*  are  generally  metaphorical,  and  therefore 
cannot  be  used  simply,  and  without  limitation  or  ex- 


364  Elementary  Studies. 

planation,  in  the  English  sense,  according  to  which  the 
mental  act  is  primarily  conveyed  by  the  word.  ^ Con- 
sideratio,’  it  is  true,  can  be  used  absolutely,  with  greater 
propriety  than  most  words  of  the  kind  ; but  if  we  take 
a parallel  case,  for  instance,  ‘ agitatio,'  we  could  not  use 
it  at  once  in  the  mental  sense  for  ‘agitation,'  but  we 
should  be  obliged  to  say  ‘ agitatio  mentis,  animil  etc., 
though  even  then  it  would  not  answer  to  ‘ agitation.' 

‘‘4.  ‘ Inter  homines,  gustus,'  etc.  Here  the  English,  as 
is  not  uncommon,  throws  two  ideas  together.  It  means, 
first,  that  something  occurs  among  men,  and  occurs 
among  wild  beasts,  and  that  it  is  the  same  thing  which 
occurs  among  both ; and  secondly  that  this  something 
is,  that  the  taste  of  blood  has  a certain  particular  effect. 
In  other  words,  it  means,  (i)  ‘ this  occurs  among  beasts 
and  men,’  (2)  viz,,  that  the  ‘ taste  of  blood,'  etc.  There- 
fore, ‘ inter  homines,  etc.,  gustus  creat,  etc.,'  does  not  ex- 
press the  English  meaning,  it  only  translates  its  expression. 

“ 5.  ‘Inter  homines’  is  not  the  Latin  phrase  for  ‘among.’ 

‘ Inter ' generally  involves  some  sense  of  division,  viz., 
interruption,  contrast,  rivalry,  etc.  Thus,  with  a singular 
noun,  ‘ inter  coenam  hoc  accidit,'  i.e.,  this  mterrupted 
the  supper.  And  so  with  two  nouns,  ‘inter  me  et  Brun- 
dusium  Cassar  est’  And  so  with  a plural  noun,  ‘hoc 
inter  homines  ambigitur,'  i.e.,  man  with  man.  ‘Micat 
inter  omnes  Julium  sidus,'  i.e.,  in  the  rivalry  of  star 
against  star.  ‘ Inter  tot  annos  unus  (vir)  inventus  est,’ 
i.e.,  though  all  those  years,  one  by  one,  put  in  their 
claim,  yet  only  one  of  them  can  produce  a man,  etc. 

‘ Inter  se  diligunt,'  they  love  each  other.  On  the  contrary, 
the  Latin  word  for  ‘ among,'  simply  understood,  is  ‘ in.' 

6.  “ As  a general  rule,  indicatives  active  followed  by 
accusatives,  are  foreign  to  the  main  structure  of  a Latin 
sentence. 


Elementary  Studies. 


365 


‘‘7.  ‘ Et ; ' here  two  clauses  are  connected,  having 
different  subjects  or  nominatives  ; in  the  former  ^ appe- 
titus ' is  in  the  nominative,  and  in  the  latter  in  the  accu- 
sative. It  is  usual  in  Latin  to  carry  on  the  subject, 
in  connected  clauses. 

8.  ‘ Et ' here  connects  two  distinct  clauses.  ‘ Autem  * 
is  more  common. 

These  being  some  of  the  faults  of  the  literal  version, 
I transcribe  the  translations  sent  in  to  me  by  six  of  my 
pupils  respectively,  who,  however  deficient  in  elegance  of 
composition,  and  though  more  or  less  deficient  in  hitting 
the  Latin  idiom,  yet  evidently  know  what  idiom  is. 

‘‘  The  first  wrote  : — Videte  rem  graviorem  ; quod  feris, 
id  hominibus  quoque  accidit,- — sanguinis  sitim  semel 
gustantibus  intus  concipi,  plene  potantibus  maturari. 

The  second  wrote  : — Res  seria  agitur  ; nam  quod  in 
feris,  illud  in  hominibus  quoque  cernitur,  sanguinis 
appetitionem  et  suscitari  lambendo  et  epulando  inflam- 
mari. 

The  third  : — Ecce  res  summa  consideratione  digna  ; 
et  in  feris  et  in  hominibus,  sanguinis  semel  delibati  sitis 
est,  saepius  hausti  libido. 

The  fourth  : — Sollicitb  animadvertendum  est,  cum  in 
feris  turn  in  hominibus  fieri,  ut  guttae  pariant  appetitum 
sanguinis,  frequentiores  potus  ingluviem. 

‘‘  And  the  fifth  ; — Perpende  sedulo,  gustum  sanguinis 
tarn  in  hominibus  quam  in  feris  primb  appetitionem  sui 
tandem  cupidinem  inferre. 

“And  the  sixth: — Hoc  grave  est,  quod  hominibus 
cum  feris  videmus  commune,  gustasse  est  appetere  san 
guinem,  hausisse  in  deliciis  habere.'' 

Mr.  Black,  junr.,  studies  this  paper,  and  considers  that 
he  has  gained  something  from  it.  Accordingly,  when 
he  sees  his  father,  he  mentions  to  him  Mn  White,  his 


/ 

366  Elementary  Studies. 

kindness,  his  papers,  and  especially  the  above,  of  which 
he  has  taken  a copy.  His  father  begs  to  see  it ; and, 
being  a bit  of  a critic,  forthwith  delivers  his  judgment 
on  it,  and  condescends  to  praise  it ; but  he  says  that  it 
fails  in  this,  viz.^  in  overlooking  the  subject  of  structure. 
He  maintains  that  the  turning-point  of  good  or  bad 
Latinity  is,  not  idiom,  as  Mr.  White  says,  but  structure. 
Then  Mr.  Black,  the  father,  is  led  on  to  speak  of  himself, 
and  of  his  youthful  studies  ; and  he  ends  by  giving  Harry 
a history  of  his  own  search  after  the  knack  of  writing 
Latin.  I do  not  see  quite  how  this  is  to  the  point  of 
Mr.  White’s  paper,  which  cannot  be  said  to  contradict 
Mr.  Black’s  narrative ; but  for  this  very  reason,  I may 
consistently  quote  it,  for  from  a different  point  of  view 
it  may  throw  light  on  the  subject  treated  in  common  by 
both  these  literary  authorities. 

2. 

Old  Mr,  Black's  Confession  of  his  search  after  a Latin 
style, 

"The  attempts  and  the  faiLres  and  the  successes  of 
those  who  have  gone  before,  my  dear  son,  are  the  direc- 
tion-posts of  those  who  come  after ; and,  as  I am  only 
speaking  to  you,  it  strikes  me  that  I may,  without 
egotism  or  ostentation,  suggest  views  or  cautions,  which 
might  indeed  be  useful  to  the  University  Student  gene- 
rally, by  a relation  of  some  of  my  own  endeavours  to 
improve  my  own  mind,  and  to  increase  my  own  know- 
ledge in  my  early  life.  I am  no  great  admirer  of  self- 
taught  geniuses ; to  be  self-taught  is  a misfortune, 
except  in  the  case  of  those  extraordinary  minds,  to 
whom  the  title  of  genius  justly  belongs ; for  in  most 
cases,  to  be  self-taught  is  to  be  badly  grounded,  to  be 


Elementary  Studies. 


367 


slovenly  finished,  and  to  be  preposterously  conceited. 
Nor,  again,  was  that  misfortune  I speak  of  really  mine  ; 
but  I have  been  left  at  times  just  so  much  to  myself,  as 
to  make  it  possible  for  young  students  to  gain  hints  from 
the  history  of  my  mind,  which  will  be  useful  to  them- 
selves. And  now  for  my  subject. 

'‘At  school  I was  reckoned  a sharp  boy;  I ran  through 
its  classes  rapidly ; and  by  the  time  I was  fifteen,  my 
masters  had  nothing  more  to  teach  me,  and  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  me.  I might  have  gone  to  a public 
school,  or  to  a private  tutor  for  three  or  four  years  ; but 
there  were  reasons  against  either  plan,  and  at  the  unusual 
age  I speak  of,  with  some  inexact  acquaintance  with 
Homer,  Sophocles,  Herodotus,  and  Xenophon,  Horace, 
Virgil,  and  Cicero,  I was  matriculated  at  the  University. 
I had  from  a child  been  very  fond  of  composition,  verse 
and  prose,  English  and  Latin,  and  took  especial  interest 
in  the  subject  of  style  ; and  one  of  the  wishes  nearest 
my  heart  was  to  write  Latin  well.  I had  some  idea  of 
the  style  of  Addison,  Hume,  and  Johnson,  in  English  ; 
but  I had  no  idea  what  was  meant  by  good  Latin  style. 
I had  read  Cicero  without  learning  what  it  was  ; the 
books  said,  ' This  is  neat  Ciceronian  language,’  ' this  is 
pure  and  elegant  Latinity,’  but  they  did  not  tell  me  why 
Some  persons  told  me  to  go  by  my  ear  ; to  get  Cicerc 
by  heart ; and  then  I should  know  how  to  turn  my 
thoughts  and  marshal  my  words,  nay,  more,  where  to 
put  subjunctive  moods  and  where  to  put  indicative.  In 
consequence  I had  a vague,  unsatisfied  feeling  on  the' 
subject,  and  kept  grasping  shadows,  and  had  upon  me 
something  of  the  unpleasant  sensation  of  a bad  dream. 

" When  I was  sixteen,  I fell  upon  an  article  in  the 
Q,uarterlyy  which  reviewed  a Latin  history  of  (I  think) 
the  Rebellion  of  1715  ; perhaps  by  Dr.  Whitaker, 


368 


Elementary  Studies, 


Years  afterwards  I learned  that  the  critique  was  the 
writing  of  a celebrated  Oxford  scholar  ; but  at  the  time, 
it  was  the  subject  itself,  not  the  writer,  that  took  hold  of 
me.  I read  it  carefully,  and  made  extracts  which,  I 
believe,  I have  to  this  day.  Had  I known  more  of  Latin 
writing,  it  would  have  been  of  real  use  to  me ; but  as  it 
was  concerned  of  necessity  in  verbal  criticisms,  it  did  but 
lead  me  deeper  into  the  mistake  to  which  I had  already 
been  introduced, — that  Latinity  consisted  in  using  good 
phrases.  Accordingly  I began  noting  down,  and  using 
in  my  exercises,  idiomatic  or  peculiar  expressions  : such 
as  ‘ oleum  perdidi,'  ' baud  scio  an  non,’  ‘ cogitanti  mihi/ 
'verum  enimvero,’  ^equidem,’  'dixerim,’  and  the  like; 
and  I made  a great  point  of  putting  the  verb  at  the  end 
of  the  sentence.  What  took  me  in  the  same  direction 
was  Dumesnils  Synonymes,  a good  book, but  one  which 
does  not  even  profess  to  teach  Latin  writing.  I was 
aiming  to  be  an  architect  by  learning  to  make  bricks. 

" Then  I fell  in  with  the  Germania  and  Agricola  of 
Tacitus,  and  was  very  much  taken  by  his  style.  Its 
peculiarities  were  much  easier  to  understand,  and  to 
copy,  than  Cicero’s  : ‘ decipit  exemplar  vitiis  imitabile  ; ’ 
and  thus,  without  any  advance  whatever  in  understanding 
Ihe  genius  of  the  language,  or  the  construction  of  a Latin 
sentence,  I added  to  my  fine  words  and  cut-and-dried 
idioms,  phrases  smacking  of  Tacitus.  The  Dialogues  of 
Erasmus,  which  I studied,  carried  me  in  the  same  direc- 
tion ; for  dialogues,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  consist 
of  words  and  clauses,  and  smart,  pregnant,  or  colloquial 
expressions,  rather  than  of  sentences  with  an  adequate 
structure.” 

Mr.  Black  takes  breath,  and  then  continues  : 

‘‘The  labour,  then,  of  years  came  to  nothing,  and  when 
I was  twenty  I knew  no  more  of  Latin  composition  than 


Elementary  Studied*  ^6g 

1 had  known  at  fifteen.  It  was  then  that  circumstances 
turned  my  attention  to  a volume  of  Latin  Lectures, 
which  had  been  published  by  the  accomplished  scholar 
of  whose  critique  in  the  Quarterly  Review  I have  already 
spoken.  The  Lectures  in  question  had  been  delivered 
terminally  while  he  held  the  Professorship  of  Poetry, 
and  were  afterwards  collected  into  a volume  ; and  various 
circumstances  combined  to  give  them  a peculiar  character. 
Delivered  one  by  one  at  intervals,  to  a large,  cultivated, 
and  critical  audience,  they  both  demanded  and  admitted 
of  special  elaboration  of  the  style.  As  coming  from  a 
person  of  his  high  reputation  for  Latinity,  they  were  dis- 
plays of  art ; and,  as  addressed  to  persons  who  had  to 
follow  ex  tempore  the  course  of  a discussion  delivered  in 
a foreign  tongue,  they  needed  a style  as  neat,  pointed, 
lucid,  and  perspicuous  as  it  was  ornamental.  Moreover, 
as  expressing  modern  ideas  in  an  ancient  language,  they 
involved  a new  development  and  application  of  its  powers. 
The  result  of  these  united  conditions  was  a style  less 
simple,  less  natural  and  fresh,  than  Cicero's ; more  studied, 
more  ambitious,  more  sparkling ; heaping  together  in  a 
page  the  flowers  which  Cicero  scatters  over  a treatise ; 
but  still  on  that  very  account  more  fitted  for  the  purpose 
of  inflicting  upon  the  inquiring  student  what  Latinity  was. 
Any  how,  such  was  its  effect  upon  me ; it  was  like  the 
' Open  Sesame ' of  the  tale ; and  I quickly  found  that  I 
had  a new  sense,  as  regards  composition,  that  I under- 
stood beyond  mistake  what  a Latin  sentence  should  be, 
and  saw  how  an  English  sentence  must  be  fused  and 
remoulded  in  order  to  make  it  Latin.  Henceforth  Cicero, 
as  an  artist,  had  a meaning,  when  I read  him,  which  he 
never  had  had  to  me  before ; the  bad  dream  of  seeking 
and  never  finding  was  over ; and,  whether  I ever  wrote 
Latin  or  not,  at  least  I knew  what  good  Latin  was. 

24 


370 


Elementary  Studies. 


I had  now  learned  that  good  Latinity  lies  in  struc- 
ture ; that  every  word  of  a sentence  may  be  Latin,  yet 
the  whole  sentence  remain  English  ; and  that  diction- 
aries do  not  teach  composition.  Exulting  in  my  dis- 
covery, I next  proceeded  to  analyze  and  to  throw  into 
the  shape  of  science  that  idea  of  Latinity  to  which  I had 
attained.  Rules  and  remarks,  such  as  are  contained  in 
works  on  composition,  had  not  led  me  to  master  the 
idea ; and  now  that  I really  had  gained  it,  it  led  me  to 
form  from  it  rules  and  remarks  for  myself.  I could  now 
turn  Cicero  to  account,  and  I proceeded  to  make  his 
writings  the  materials  of  an  induction,  from  which  I 
drew  out  and  threw  into  form  what  I have  called  a 
science  of  Latinity, — with  its  principles  and  peculiarities, 
their  connection  and  their  consequences, — or  at  least 
considerable  specimens  of  such  a science,  the  like  of 
which  I have  not  happened  to  see  in  print.  Consider- 
ing, however,  how  much  has  been  done  for  scholarship 
since  the  time  I speak  of,  and  especially  how  many 
German  books  have  been  translated,  I doubt  not  I 
should  now  find  my  own  poor  investigations  and  dis- 
coveries anticipated  and  superseded  by  works  which  are 
in  the  hands  of  every  school-boy.  - At  the  same  time, 
I am  quite  sure  that  I gained  a very  great  deal  in  the 
way  of  precision  of  thought,  delicacy  of  judgment,  and 
refinement  of  taste,  by  the  processes  of  induction  to 
which  I am  referring.  I kept  blank  books,  in  which 
every  peculiarity  in  every  sentence  of  Cicero  was 
minutely  noted  down,  as  I went  on  reading.  The 
force  of  words,  their  combination  into  phrases,  their 
collocation — the  carrying  on  of  one  subject  or  nomina- 
tive through  a sentence,  the  breaking  up  of  a sentence 
into  clauses,  the  evasion  of  its  categorical  form,  the  reso- 
lution of  abstract  nouns  into  verbs  and  participles ; — 


Elementary  Studies. 


371 


what  is  possible  in  Latin  composition  and  what  is  not, 
how  to  compensate  for  want  of  brevity  by  elegance,  and 
to  secure  perspicuity  by  the  use  of  figures,  these,  and  a 
hundred  similar  points  of  art,  I illustrated  with  a dili- 
gence which  even  bordered  on  subtlety.  Cicero  became 
a mere  magazine  of  instances,  and  the  main  use  of  the 
river  was  to  feed  the  canal.  I am  unable  to  say  whether 
these  elaborate  inductions  would  profit  any  one  else,  but 
I have  a vivid  recollection  of  the  great  utility  they  were 
at  that  time  to  my  own  mind. 

‘‘The  general  subject  of  Latin  composition,  my  dear 
son,  has  ever  interested  me  much,  and  you  see  only  one 
point  in  it  has  made  me  speak  for  a quarter  of  an  hour ; 
but  now  that  I have  had  my  say  about  it,  what  is  its 
upshot } The  great  moral  I would  impress  upon  you  is 
this,  that  in  learning  to  write  Latin,  as  in  all  learning, 
you  must  not  trust  to  books,  but  only  make  use  of 
them ; not  hang  like  a dead  weight  upon  your  teacher, 
but  catch  some  of  his  life  ; handle  what  is  given  you, 
not  as  a formula,  but  as  a pattern  to  copy  and  as  a 
capital  to  improve  ; throw  your  heart  and  mind  into 
what  you  are  about,  and  thus  unite  the  separate  advan- 
tages of  being  tutored  and  of  being  self-taught, — self- 
taught,  yet  without  oddities,  and  tutorized,  yet  without 
conventionalities.’' 

“ Why,  my  dear  father,”  says  young  Mr.  Black,  “ you 
speak  like  a book.  You  must  let  me  ask  you  to  write 
down  for  me  what  you  have  been  giving  out  in  conver- 
sation.” 

/ have  had  the  advantage  of  the  written  copy. 


§ 4- — General  Religious  K^iowledge. 


I. 

IT  has  been  the  custom  in  the  English  Universities 
to  introduce  religious  instruction  into  the  School  ol 
Arts ; and  a very  right  custom  it  is,  which  every  Univer- 
sity may  well  imitate.  I have  certainly  felt  it  ought  to 
have  a place  in  that  School  ; yet  the  subject  is  not  with- 
out its  difficulty,  and  I intend  to  say  a few  words  upon 
it  here.  That  place,  if  it  has  one,  should  of  course  be 
determined  on  some  intelligible  principle,  which,  while 
it  justifies  the  introduction  of  Religion  into  a secular 
Faculty,  will  preserve  it  from  becoming  an  intrusion,  by 
fixing  the  conditions  under  which  it  is  to  be  admitted. 
There  are  many  who  would  make  over  the  subject  ot 
Religion  to  the  theologian  exclusively ; there  are  others 
who  allow  it  almost  unlimited  extension  in  the  province 
of  Letters.  The  latter  of  these  two  classes,  if  not  large, 
at  least  is  serious  and  earnest ; it  seems  to  consider  that 
the  Classics  should  be  superseded  by  the  Scriptures  and 
the  Fathers,  and  that  Theology  proper  should  be  taught 
to  the  youthful  aspirant  for  University  honours.  I am 
not  here  concerned  with  opinions  of  this  character,  which 
I respect,  but  cannot  follow.  Nor  am  I concerned  with 
that  large  class,  on  the  other  hand,  who,  in  their  ex- 
clusion of  Religion  from  the  lecture-rooms  of  Philosophy 
and  Letters  (or  of  Arts,  as  it  used  to  be  called),  are 
actuated  by  scepticism  or  indifference;  but  there  are 
other  persons,  much  to  be  consulted,  who  arrive  at  the 


Elementary  Studies. 


373 


same  practical  conclusion  as  the  sceptic  and  unbeliever, 
from  real  reverence  and  pure  zeal  for  the  interests  of 
Theology,  which  they  consider  sure  to  suffer  from  the 
superficial  treatment  of  lay-professors,  and  the  superficial 
reception  of  young  minds,  as  soon  as,  and  in  whatever 
degree,  it  is  associated  with  classical,  philosophical,  and 
historical  studies  ; — and  as  very  many  persons  of  great 
consideration  seem  to  be  of  this  opinion,  I will  set  down 
the  reasons  why  I follow  the  English  tradition  instead, 
and  in  what  sense  I follow  it. 

I might  appeal,  I conceive,  to  authority  in  my  favour, 
but  I pass  it  over,  because  mere  authority,  however 
sufficient  for  my  own  guidance,  is  not  sufficient  for  the 
definite  direction  of  those  who  have  to  carry  out  the 
matter  of  it  in  practice. 


2. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  it  is  congruous  certainly  that 
youths  who  are  prepared  in  a Catholic  University  for 
the  general  duties  of  a secular  life,  or  for  the  secular 
professions,  should  not  leave  it  without  some  knowledge 
of  their  religion ; and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  does,  in 
matter  of  fact,  act  to  the  disadvantage  of  a Christian 
place  of  education,  in  the  world  and  in  the  judgment  of 
men  of  the  world,  and  is  a reproach  to  its  conductors, 
and  even  a scandal,  if  it  sends  out  its  pupils  accomplished 
in  all  knowledge  except  Christian  knowledge  ; and  hence, 
even  though  it  were  impossible  to  rest  the  introduction 
of  religious  teaching  into  the  secular  lecture-room  upon 
any  logical  principle,  the  imperative  necessity  of  its  in- 
troduction would  remain,  and  the  only  question  would 
be,  what  matter  was  to  be  introduced,  and  how  much. 

And  next,  considering  that,  as  the  mind  is  enlarged 
and  cultivated  generally,  it  is  capable,  or  rather  is 


374 


Elementary  Studies. 


desirous  and  has  need,  of  fuller  religious  information,  it 
is  difficult  to  maintain  that  that  knowledge  of  Christi- 
anity which  is  sufficient  for  entrance  at  the  University  is 
all  that  is  incumbent  on  students  who  have  been  sub- 
mitted to  the  academical  course.  So  that  we  are  un- 
avoidably led  on  to  the  further  question,  viz.,  shall  we 
sharpen  and  refine  the  youthful  intellect,  and  then  leave 
it  to  exercise  its  new  powers  upon  the  most  sacred  of 
subjects,  as  it  will,  and  with  the  chance  of  its  exercising 
them  wrongly  ; or  shall  we  proceed  to  feed  it  with  divine 
truth,  as  it  gains  an  appetite  for  knowledge } 

Religious  teaching,  then,  is  urged  upon  us  in  the  case 
of  University  students,  first,  by  its  evident  propriety ; 
secondly,  by  the  force  of  public  opinion  ; thirdly,  from 
the  great  inconveniences  of  neglecting  it.  And,  if  the 
subject  of  Religion  is  to  have  a real  place  in  their  course 
of  study,  it  must  enter  into  the  examinations  in  which 
that  course  results ; for  nothing  will  be  found  to  impress 
and  occupy  their  minds  but  such  matters  as  they  have 
to  present  to  their  Examiners. 

Such,  then,  are  the  considerations  which  actually  oblige 
us  to  introduce  the  subject  of  Religion  into  our  secular 
schools,  whether  it  be  logical  or  not  to  do  so ; but  next, 
I think  that  we  can  do  so  without  any  sacrifice  of  prin- 
ciple or  of  consistency ; and  this,  I trust,  will  appear,  if 
I proceed  to  explain  the  mode  which  I should  propose 
to  adopt  for  the  purpose  : — 

I would  treat  the  subject  of  Religion  in  the  School  of 
Philosophy  and  Letters  simply  as  a branch  of  know- 
ledge. If  the  University  student  is  bound  to  have  a 
knowledge  of  History  generally,  he  is  bound  to  have 
inclusively  a knowledge  of  sacred  history  as  well  as 
profane;  if  he  ought  to  be  well  instructed  in  Ancient 
Literature,  Biblical  Literature  comes  under  that  general 


Elementary  Studies. 


375 


description  as  well  as  Classical ; if  he  knows  the  Philo- 
sophy of  men,  he  will  not  be  extravagating  from  his 
general  subject,  if  he  cultivate  also  that  Philosophy  which 
is  divine.  And  as  a student  is  not  necessarily  superficial, 
though  he  has  not  studied  all  the  classical  poets,  or  all 
Aristotle’s  philosophy,  so  he  need  not  be  dangerously 
superficial,  if  he  has  but  a parallel  knowledge  of  Religion. 

3- 

However,  it  may  be  said  that  the  risk  of  theological 
error  is  so  serious,  and  the  effects  of  theological  conceit 
are  so  mischievous,  that  it  is  better  for  a youth  to  know 
nothing  of  the  sacred  subject,  than  to  have  a slender 
knowledge  which  he  can  use  freely  and  recklessly,  for 
the  very  reason  that  it  is  slender.  And  here  we  have 
the  maxim  in  corroboration : “ A little  learning  is  a 
dangerous  thing.” 

This  objection  is  of  too  anxious  a character  to  be  dis- 
regarded. I should  answer  it  thus  : — In  the  first  place  it 
is  obvious  to  remark,  that  one  great  portion  of  the  know- 
ledge here  advocated  is,  as  I have  just  said,  historical 
knowledge,  which  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  doc- 
trine. If  a Catholic  youth  mixes  with  educated  Protes- 
tants of  his  own  age,  he  will  find  them  conversant  with 
the  outlines  and  the  characteristics  of  sacred  and  eccle- 
siastical history  as  well  as  profane : it  is  desirable  that 
he  should  be  on  a par  with  them,  and  able  to  keep  up  a 
conversation  with  them.  It  is  desirable,  if  he  has  left 
our  University  with  honours  or  prizes,  that  he  should 
know  as  well  as  they  about  the  great  primitive  divisions 
of  Christianity,  its  polity,  its  luminaries,  its  acts,  and  its 
fortunes ; its  great  eras,  and  its  course  down  to  this  day. 
He  should  have  some  idea  of  its  propagation,  and  of  the 
order  in  which  the  nations,  which  have  submitted  to  it. 


376 


Elementary  Studies. 


entered  its  pale ; and  of  the  list  of  its  Fathers,  and  of 
its  writers  generally,  and  of  the  subjects  of  their  works. 
He  should  know  who  St.  Justin  Martyr  was,  and  when 
he  lived ; what  language  St  Ephraim  wrote  in  ; on  what 
St.  Chrysostom's  literary  fame  is  founded ; who  was 
Celsus,  or  Ammonius,  or  Porphyry,  or  Ulphilas,  or  Sym- 
machus,  or  Theodoric.  Who  were  the  Nestorians  ; what 
was  the  religion  of  the  barbarian  nations  who  took  pos- 
session of  the  Roman  Empire : who  was  Eutyches,  or 
Berengarius,  who  the  Albigenses.  He  should  know 
something  about  the  Benedictines,  Dominicans,  or  Fran- 
ciscans, about  the  Crusades,  and  the  chief  movers  in 
them.  He  should  be  able  to  say  what  the  Holy  See 
has  done  for  learning  and  science ; the  place  which  these 
islands  hold  in  the  literary  history  of  the  dark  age  ; what 
part  the  Church  had,  and  how  her  highest  interests  fared, 
in  the  revival  of  letters  ; who  Bessarion  was,  or  Ximenes, 
or  William  of  Wykeham,  or  Cardinal  Allen.  I do  not 
say  that  we  can  insure  all  this  knowledge  in  every  acr 
complished  student  who  goes  from  us,  but  at  least  we 
can  admit  such  knowledge,  we  can  encourage  it,  in  our 
lecture-rooms  and  examination-halls. 

And  so  in  like  manner,  as  regards  Biblical  knowledge, 
it  is  desirable  that,  while  our  students  are  encouraged  to 
pursue  the  history  of  classical  literature,  they  should 
also  be  invited  to  acquaint  themselves  with  some  general 
facts  about  the  canon  of  Holy  Scripture,  its  history,  the 
Jewish  canon,  St.  Jerome,  the  Protestant  Bible;  again, 
about  the  languages  of  Scripture,  the  contents  of  its 
separate  books,  their  authors,  and  their  versions.  In  all 
such  knowledge  I conceive  no  great  harm  can  lie  in  being 
superficial. 

But  now  as  to  Theology  itself.  To  meet  the  appre- 
hended danger,  I would  exclude  the  teaching  in  extensc  of 


Klementary  Studies. 


377 


pure  dogma  from  the  secular  schools,  and  content  my- 
self with  enforcing  such  a broad  knowledge  of  doctrinal 
subjects  as  is  contained  in  the  catechisms  of  the  Church, 
or  the  actual  writings  of  her  laity.  I would  have  students 
apply  their  minds  to  such  religious  topics  as  laymen 
actually  do  treat,  and  are  thought  praiseworthy  in 
treating.  Certainly  I admit  that,  when  a lawyer  or 
physician,  or  statesman,  or  merchant,  or  soldier  sets 
about  discussing  theological  points,  he  is  likely  to  suc- 
ceed as  ill  as  an  ecclesiastic  who  meddles  with  law,  or 
medicine,  or  the  exchange.  But  I am  professing  to  con- 
template Christian  knowledge  in  what  may  be  called  its 
secular  aspect,  as  it  is  practically  useful  in  the  intercourse 
of  life  and  in  general  conversation  ; and  I would  encou- 
rage it  so  far  as  it  bears  upon  the  history,  the  literature, 
and  the  philosophy  of  Christianity. 

It  is  to  be  considered  that  our  students  are  to  go  out 
into  the  world,  and  a world  not  of  professed  Catholics, 
but  of  inveterate,  often  bitter,  commonly  contemptuous, 
Protestants ; nay,  of  Protestants  who,  so  far  as  they 
come  from  Protestant  Universities  and  public  schools, 
do  know  their  own  system,  do  know,  in  proportion  to 
their  general  attainments,  the  doctrines  and  arguments 
of  Protestantism.  I should  desire,  then,  to  encourage 
in  our  students  an  intelligent  apprehension  of  the  rela- 
tions, as  I may  call  them,  between  the  Church  and 
Society  at  large  ; for  instance,  the  difference  between 
the  Church  and  a religious  sect ; the  respective  preroga- 
tives of  the  Church  and  the  civil  power ; what  the  Church 
claims  of  necessity,  what  it  cannot  dispense  with,  what 
it  can  ; what  it  can  grant,  what  it  cannot.  A C atholic 
hears  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy  discussed  in  general 
society  ; is  that  usage  a matter  of  faith,  or  is  it  not  oi 
faith } He  hears  the  Pope  accused  of  interfering  with 


378 


Elementary  Studies. 


the  prerogatives  of  her  Majesty,  because  he  appoints  an 
hierarchy.  What  is  he  to  answer.!^  What  principle  is  to 
guide  him  in  the  remarks  which  he  cannot  escape  from 
the  necessity  of  making  "i  He  fills  a station  of  impor- 
tance, and  he  is  addressed  by  some  friend  who  has  political 
reasons  for  wishing  to  know  what  is  the  difference  be- 
tween Canon  and  Civil  Law,  whether  the  Council  of 
Trent  has  been  received  in  France,  whether  a Priest 
cannot  in  certain  cases  absolve  prospectively,  what  is 
meant  by  his  intentiofiy  what  by  the  opus  operatum ; 
whether,  and  in  what  sense,  we  consider  Protestants  to 
be  heretics  ; whether  any  one  can  be  saved  without 
sacramental  confession  ; whether  we  deny  the  reality  of 
natural  virtue,  or  what  worth  we  assign  to  it } 

Questions  may  be  multiplied  without  limit,  which 
occur  in  conversation  between  friends,  in  social  inter- 
course, or  in  the  business  of  life,  when  no  argument  is 
needed,  no  subtle  and  delicate  disquisition,  but  a few 
direct  words  stating  the  fact,  and  when  perhaps  a few 
words  may  even  hinder  most  serious  inconveniences  to  the 
Catholic  body.  Half  the  controversies  which  go  on  in 
the  world  arise  from  ignorance  of  the  facts  of  the  case  ; 
half  the  prejudices  against  Catholicity  lie  in  the  misin- 
formation of  the  prejudiced  parties.  Candid  persons  are 
set  right,  and  enemies  silenced,  by  the  mere  statement 
of  what  it  is  that  we  believe.  It  will  not  answer  the 
purpose  for  a Catholic  to  say,  I leave  it  to  theologians,” 
I will  ask  my  priest ; ” but  it  will  commonly  give  him 
a triumph,  as  easy  as  it  is  complete,  if  he  can  then  and 
there  lay  down  the  law.  I say  lay  down  the  law ; ” for 
remarkable  it  is  that  even  those  who  speak  against 
Catholicism  like  to  hear  about  it,  and  will  excuse  its 
advocate  from  alleging  arguments  if  he  can  gratify 
their  curiosity  by  giving  them  information.  Generally 


Elementary  Studies. 


379 


speaking,  however,  as  I have  said,  what  is  given  as  informa- 
tion will  really  be  an  argument  as  well  as  information.  I 
recollect,  some  twenty-five  years  ago,  three  friends  of  my 
own,  as  they  then  were,  clergymen  of  the  Establishment, 
making  a tour  through  Ireland.  In  the  West  or  South 
they  had  occasion  to  become  pedestrians  for  the  day ; 
and  they  took  a boy  of  thirteen  to  be  their  guide.  They 
amused  themselves  with  putting  questions  to  him  on  the 
subject  of  his  religion ; and  one  of  them  confessed  to  me 
on  his  return  that  that  poor  child  put  them  all  to  silence. 
How } Not,  of  course,  by  any  train  of  arguments,  or  re- 
fined theological  disquisition,  but  merely  by  knowing  and 
understanding  the  answers  in  his  catechism, 

4. 

Nor  will  argument  itself  be  out  of  place  in  the  hands 
of  laymen  mixing  with  the  world.  As  secular  power, 
influence,  or  resources  are  never  more  suitably  placed 
than  when  they  are  in  the  hands  of  Catholics,  so  secular 
knowledge  and  secular  gifts  are  then  best  employed 
when  they  minister  to  Divine  Revelation.  Theologians 
inculcate  the  matter,  and  determine  the  details  of  that 
Revelation ; they  view  it  from  within  ; philosophers  view 
it  from  without,  and  this  external  view  may  be  called 
the  Philosophy  of  Religion,  and  the  office  of  delineating 
it  externally  is  most  gracefully  performed  by  laymen. 
In  the  first  age  laymen  w’^ere  most  commonly  the  Apolo- 
gists. Such  were  Justin,  Tatian,  Athenagoras,  Aristides, 
Hermias,  Minucius  Felix,  Arnobius,  and  Lactantius.  In 
like  manner  in  this  age  some  of  the  most  prominent 
defences  of  the  Church  are  from  laymen  : as  De  Maistre, 
Chateaubriand,  Nicolas,  Montalembert,  and  others.  If 
laymen  may  write,  lay  students  may  read  ; they  surely 
may  read  what  their  fathers  may  have  written.  They 


38o 


Elementary  Studies, 


might  surely  study  other  works  too,  ancient  and  modern, 
written  whether  by  ecclesiastics  or  laymen,  which,  al- 
though they  do  contain  theology,  nevertheless,  in  theii 
structure  and  drift,  are  polemical.  Such  is  Origen’s  great 
work  against  Celsus;  and  Tertullian’s  Apology;  such 
some  of  the  controversial  treatises  of  Eusebius  and 
Theodoret ; or  St.  Augustine’s  City  of  God  ; or  the  tract 
of  Vincentius  Lirinensis.  And  I confess  that  I should 
not  even  object  to  portions  of  Bellarmine’s  Controversies, 
or  to  the  work  of  Suarez  on  laws,  or  to  Melchior  Canus’s 
treatises  on  the  Loci  Theologici.  On  these  questions  in 
detail,  however, — which  are,  I readily  acknowledge,  very 
delicate, — opinions  may  differ,  even  where  the  general 
principle  is  admitted  ; but,  even  if  we  confine  ourselves 
strictly  to  the  Philosophy,  that  is,  the  external  contem- 
plation, of  Religion,  we  shall  have  a range  of  reading 
sufficiently  wide,  and  as  valuable  in  its  practical  applica- 
tion as  it  is  liberal  in  its  character.  In  it  will  be  included 
what  are  commonly  called  the  Evidences ; and  what  is 
a subject  of  special  interest  at  this  day,  the  Notes  of  the 
Church. 

But  I have  said  enough  in  general  illustration  of  the 
rule  which  I am  recommending.  One  more  remark  I 
make,  though  it  is  implied  in  what  I have  been  saying  : — 
Whatever  students  read  in  the  province  of  Religion, 
they  read,  and  would  read  from  the  very  nature  of 
the  case,  under  the  superintendence,  and  with  the  expla- 
nations, of  those  who  are  older  and  more  experienced 
than  themselves. 


V. 


A FORM  OF  INFIDELITY  OF  THE  DAY. 


§.  I.  Its  Sentiments. 


I. 


HOUGH  it  cannot  be  denied  that  at  the  present 


JL  day,  in  consequence  of  the  close  juxtaposition  and 
intercourse  of  men  of  all  religions,  there  is  a considerable 
danger  of  the  subtle,  silent,  unconscious  perversion  and 
corruption  of  Catholic  intellects,  who  as  yet  profess,  and 
sincerely  profess,  their  submission  to  the  authority  of 
Revelation,  still  that  danger  is  far  inferior  to  what  it  was 
in  one  portion  of  the  middle  ages.  Nay,  contrasting  the 
two  periods  together,  we  may  even  say,  that  in  this  very 
point  they  differ,  that,  in  the  medieval,  since  Catholicism 
was  then  the  sole  religion  recognized  in  Christendom, 
unbelief  necessarily  made  its  advances  under  the  lan- 
guage and  the  guise  of  faith  ; whereas  in  the  present, 
when  universal  toleration  prevails,  and  it  is  open  to 
assail  revealed  truth  (whether  Scripture  or  Tradition, 
the  Fathers  or  the  Sense  of  the  faithful’'),  unbelief  in 
consequence  throws  off  the  mask,  and  takes  up  a position 
over  against  us  in  citadels  of  its  own,  and  confronts  us 
in  the  broad  light  and  with  a direct  assault.  And  I have 
no  hesitation  in  saying  (apart  of  course  from  moral  and 
ecclesiastical  considerations,  and  under  correction  of  the 


382  A For^n  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 

command  and  policy  of  the  Church),  that  I prefer  to  live 
in  an  age  when  the  fight  is  in  the  day,  not  in  the 
twilight ; and  think  it  a gain  to  be  speared  by  a foe,  rather 
than  to  be  stabbed  by  a friend. 

I do  not,  then,  repine  at  all  at  the  open  development 
of  unbelief  in  Germany,  supposing  unbelief  is  to  be,  or  at 
its  growing  audacity  in  England  ; not  as  if  I were  satis- 
fied with  the  state  of  things,  considered  positively,  but 
because,  in  the  unavoidable  alternative  of  avowed  unbe- 
lief and  secret,  my  own  personal  leaning  is  in  favour  of 
the  former.  I hold  that  unbelief  is  in  some  shape  una- 
voidable in  an  age  of  intellect  and  in  a world  like  this, 
considering  that  faith  requires  an  act  of  the  will,  and 
presupposes  the  due  exercise  of  religious  advantages. 
You  may  persist  in  calling  Europe  Catholic,  though  it  is 
not ; you  may  enforce  an  outward  acceptance  of  Catho- 
lic dogma,  and  an  outward  obedience  to  Catholic  pre- 
cept ; and  your  enactments  may  be,  so  far,  not  only 
pious  in  themselves,  but  even  merciful  towards  the 
teachers  of  false  doctrine,  as  well  as  just  towards  their 
victims ; but  this  is  all  that  you  can  do ; you  cannot 
bespeak  conclusions  which,  in  spite  of  yourselves,  you 
are  leaving  free  to  the  human  will.  There  will  be,  I say, 
in  spite  of  you,  unbelief  and  immorality  to  the  end  of 
the  world,  and  you  must  be  prepared  for  immorality 
more  odious,  and  unbelief  more  astute,  more  subtle, 
more  bitter,  and  more  resentful,  in  proportion  as  it  is 
obliged  to  dissemble. 

It  is  one  great  advantage  of  an  age  in  which  unbelief 
speaks  out,  that  Faith  can  speak  out  too  ; that,  if  false- 
hood assails  Truth,  Truth  can  assail  falsehood.  In  such 
an  age  it  is  possible  to  found  a University  more  empha- 
tically Catholic  than  could  be  set  up  in  the  middle  age, 
because  Truth  can  entrench  itself  carefully,  and  define 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day  . 383 


its  own  profession  severely,  and  display  its  colours 
unequivocally,  by  occasion  of  that  very  unbelief  which 
so  shamelessly  vaunts  itself.  And  a kindred  advantage 
to  this  is  the  confidence  which,  in  such  an  age,  we  can 
place  in  all  who  are  around  us,  so  that  we  need  look  for 
no  foes  but  those  who  are  in  the  enemy's  camp. 


2. 

The  medieval  schools  were  the  arena  of  as  critical 
a struggle  between  truth  and  error  as  Christianity  has 
ever  endured ; and  the  philosophy  which  bears  their 
name  carried  its  supremacy  by  means  of  a succession 
of  victories  in  the  cause  of  the  Church.  Scarcely  had 
Universities  risen  into  popularity,  when  they  were  found 
to  be  infected  with  the  most  subtle  and  fatal  forms  of 
unbelief ; and  the  heresies  of  the  East  germinated  in  the 
West  of  Europe  and  in  Catholic  lecture-rooms,  with  a 
mysterious  vigour  upon  which  history  throws  little  light. 
The  questions  agitated  were  as  deep  as  any  in  theology ; 
the  being  and  essence  of  the  Almighty  were  the  main 
subjects  of  the  disputation,  and  Aristotle  was  introduced 
to  the  ecclesiastical  youth  as  a teacher  of  Pantheism. 
Saracenic  expositions  of  the  great  philosopher  were  in 
vogue  ; and,  when  a fresh  treatise  was  imported  from 
Constantinople,  the  curious  and  impatient  student  threw 
himself  upon  it,  regardless  of  the  Church's  warnings, 
and  reckless  of  the  effect  upon  his  own  mind.  The 
acutest  intellects  became  sceptics  and  misbelievers  ; and 
the  head  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  the  Caesar  Frede- 
rick the  Second,  to  say  nothing  of  our  miserable  king 
John,  had  the  reputation  of  meditating  a profession  of 
Mahometanism.  It  is  said  that,  in  the  community  at 
large,  men  had  a vague  suspicion  and  mistrust  of  each 
other's  belief  in  Revelation.  A secret  society  was  dis- 


384  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 

covered  in  the  Universities  of  Lombardy,  Tuscany,  and 
France,  organized  for  the  propagation  of  infidel  opinions; 
it  was  bound  together  by  oaths,  and  sent  its  missionaries 
among  the  people  in  the  disguise  of  pedlars  and  vagrants. 

The  success  of  such  efforts  was  attested  in  the  south 
of  France  by  the  great  extension  of  the  Albigenses,  and 
the  prevalence  of  Manichean  doctrine.  The  University 
of  Paris  was  obliged  to  limit  the  number  of  its  doctors  in 
theology  to  as  few  as  eight,  from  misgivings  about  the 
orthodoxy  of  its  divines  generally.  The  narrative  of 
Simon  of  Tournay,  struck  dead  for  crying  out  after 
lecture,  ‘‘Ah  ! good  Jesus,  I could  disprove  Thee,  did  I 
please,  as  easily  as  I have  proved,’'  whatever  be  its 
authenticity,  at  least  may  be  taken  as  a representation 
of  the  frightful  peril  to  which  Christianity  was  exposed. 
Amaury  of  Chartres  was  the  author  of  a school  of  Pan- 
theism, and  has  given  his  name  to  a sect ; Abelard, 
Roscelin,  Gilbert,  and  David  de  Dinant,  Tanquelin,  and 
Eon,  and  others  who  might  be  named,  show  the  extra- 
ordinary influence  of  anti-Catholic  doctrines  on  high 
and  low.  Ten  ecclesiastics  and  several  of  the  populace 
of  Paris  were  condemned  for  maintaining  that  our  Lord’s 
reign  was  past,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  was  to  be  incarnate, 
or  for  parallel  heresies. 

Frederick  the  Second  established  a University  at 
Naples  with  a view  to  the  propagation  of  the  infidelity 
which  was  so  dear  to  him.  It  gave  birth  to  the  great 
St.  Thomas,  the  champion  of  revealed  truth.  So  inti- 
mate was  the  intermixture,  so  close  the  grapple,  between 
faith  and  unbelief  It  was  the  conspiracy  of  traitors,  it 
was  a civil  strife,  of  which  the  medieval  seats  of  learning 
were  the  scene. 

In  this  day,  on  the  contrary.  Truth  and  Error  lie  over 
against  each  other  with  a valley  between  them,  and 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 


385 


David  goes  forward  in  the  sight  of  all  men,  and  from 
his  own  camp,  to  engage  with  the  Philistine.  Such  is 
the  providential  overruling  of  that  principle  of  toleration, 
which  was  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  unbelief,  in  order  to 
the  destruction  of  Catholicity.  The  sway  of  the  Church 
is  contracted ; but  she  gains  in  intensity  what  she  loses 
in  extent.  She  has  now  a direct  command  and  a reliable 
influence  over  her  own  institutions,  which  was  wanting 
in  the  middle  ages.  A University  is  her  possession  in 
these  times,  as  well  as  her  creation  : nor  has  she  the 
need,  which  once  was  so  urgent,  to  expel  heresies  from 
her  pale,  which  have  now  their  own  centres  of  attrac- 
tion elsewhere,  and  spontaneously  take  their  departure. 
Secular  advantages  no  longer  present  an  inducement  to 
hypocrisy,  and  her  members  in  consequence  have  the 
consolation  of  being  able  to  be  sure  of  each  other.  How 
much  better  is  it,  for  us  at  least,  whatever  it  may  be  for 
themselves  (to  take  a case  before  our  eyes  in  Ireland), 
that  those  persons,  who  have  left  the  Church  to  become 
ministers  in  the  Protestant  Establishment,  should  be  in 
their  proper  place,  as  they  are,  than  that  they  should 
have  perforce  continued  in  her  communion ! I repeat 
it,  I would  rather  fight  with  unbelief  as  we  find  it  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  than  as  it  existed  in  the  twelfth  and 
thirteenth. 


3* 

I look  out,  then,  into  the  enemy's  camp,  and  I try  to 
trace  the  outlines  of  the  hostile  movements  and  the 
preparations  for  assault  which  are  there  in  agitation 
against  us.  The  arming  and  the  manoeuvring,  the  earth- 
works and  the  mines,  go  on  incessantly ; and  one  cannot 
of  course  tell,  without  the  gift  of  prophecy,  which  of  his 
projects  will  be  carried  into  effect  and  attain  its  purpose; 

25 


386  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 


and  which  will  eventually  fail  or  be  abandoned.  Threaten- 
ing demonstrations  may  come  to  nothing  ; and  those 
who  are  to  be  our  most  formidable  foes,  may  before  the 
attack  elude  our  observation.  All  these  uncertainties, 
we  know,  are  the  lot  of  the  soldier  in  the  field  : and 
they  are  parallel  to  those  which  befall  the  warriors  of 
the  Temple.  Fully  feeling  the  force  of  such  considera- 
tions, and  under  their  correction,  nevertheless  I make 
my  anticipations  according  to  the  signs  of  the  times  ; 
and  such  must  be  my  proviso^  when  I proceed  to  describe 
some  characteristics  of  one  particular  form  of  infidelity, 
which  is  coming  into  existence  and  activity  over  against 
us,  in  the  intellectual  citadels  of  England. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  I attribute,  what  I am 
going  to  speak  of  as  a form  of  infidelity  of  the  day,  to 
any  given  individual  or  individuals ; nor  is  it  necessary 
to  my  purpose  to  suppose  that  any  one  man  as  yet  con- 
sciously holds,  or  sees  the  drift,  of  that  portion  of  the 
theory  to  which  he  has  given  assent.  I am  to  describe 
a set  of  opinions  which  may  be  considered  as  the  true 
explanation  of  many  floating  views,  and  the  converging 
point  of  a multitude  of  separate  and  independent  minds; 
and,  as  of  old  Arius  or  Nestorius  not  only  was  spoken 
of  in  his  own  person,  but  was  viewed  as  the  abstract  and 
typical  teacher  of  the  heresy  which  he  introduced,  and 
thus  his  name  denoted  a heretic  more  complete  and 
explicit,  even  though  not  more  formal,  than  the  here- 
siarch  himself,  so  here  too,  in  like  manner,  I may  be 
describing  a school  of  thought  in  its  fully  developed 
proportions,  which  at  present  every  one,  to  whom  mem- 
bership with  it  is  imputed,  will  at  once  begin  to  disown, 
and  I may  be  pointing  to  teachers  whom  no  one  will  be 
able  to  descry.  Still,  it  is  not  less  true  that  I may  be 
speaking  of  tendencies  and  elements  which  exist , and 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day.  387 


he  may  come  in  person  at  last,  who  comes  at  first  to  us 
merely  in  his  spirit  and  in  his  power. 

The  teacher,  then,  whom  I speak  of,  will  discourse 
thus  in  his  secret  heart : — He  will  begin,  as  many  so  far 
have  done  before  him,  by  laying  it  down  as  if  a position 
which  approves  itself  to  the  reason,  immediately  that  it 
is  fairly  examined, — which  is  of  so  axiomatic  a character 
as  to  have  a claim  to  be  treated  as  a first  principle,  and 
is  firm  and  steady  enough  to  bear  a large  superstructure 
upon  it, — that  Religion  is  not  the  subject-matter  of  a 
science.  You  may  have  opinions  in  religion,  you  may 
have  theories,  you  may  have  arguments,  you  may  have 
probabilities;  you  may  have  anything  but  demonstration, 
and  therefore  you  cannot  have  science.  In  mechanics 
you  advance  from  sure  premisses  to  sure  conclusions ; in 
optics  you  form  your  undeniable  facts  into  system, 
arrive  at  general  principles,  and  then  again  infallibly 
apply  them : here  you  have  Science.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  at  present  no  real  science  of  the  weather, 
because  you  cannot  get  hold  of  facts  and  truths  on  which 
it  depends ; there  is  no  science  of  the  coming  and  going 
of  epidemics ; no  science  of  the  breaking  out  and  the 
cessation  of  wars  ; no  science  of  popular  likings  and  dis- 
likings,  or  of  the  fashions.  It  is  not  that  these  subject- 
matters  are  themselves  incapable  of  science,  but  that, 
under  existing  circumstances,  we  are  incapable  of  sub- 
jecting them  to  it.  And  so,  in  like  manner,*'  says  the 
philosopher  in  question,  ^‘without  denying  that  in  the 
matter  of  religion  some  things  are  true  and  some  things 
false,  still  we  certainly  are  not  in  a position  to  determine 
the  one  or  the  other.  And,  as  it  would  be  absurd  to 
dogmatize  about  the  weather,  and  say  that  i860  will  be 
a wet  season  or  a dry  season,  a time  of  peace  or  war,  so 
it  is  absurd  for  men  in  our  present  state  to  teach  any- 


388  A Farm  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 

thing  positively  about  the  next  world,  that  there  is  a 
heaven,  or  a hell,  or  a last  judgment,  or  that  the  soul  is 
immortal,  or  that  there  is  a God.  It  is  not  that  you  have 
not  a right  to  your  own  opinion,  as  you  have  a right  to 
place  implicit  trust  in  your  own  banker,  or  in  your  own 
physician ; but  undeniably  such  persuasions  are  not 
knowledge,  they  are  not  scientific,  they  cannot  become 
public  property,  they  are  consistent  with  your  allowing 
your  friend  to  entertain  the  opposite  opinion  ; and,  if 
you  are  tempted  to  be  violent  in  the  defence  of  your  own 
view  of  the  case  in  this  matter  of  religion,  then  it  is  well 
to  lay  seriously  to  heart  whether  sensitiveness  on  the 
subject  of  your  banker  or  your  doctor,  when  he  is  handled 
sceptically  by  another,  would  not  be  taken  to  argue  a 
secret  misgiving  in  your  mind  about  him,  in  spite  of  your 
confident  profession,  an  absence  of  clear,  unruffled  cer- 
tainty in  his  honesty  or  in  his  skill.” 

Such  is  our  philosopher's  primary  position.  He  does 
not  prove  it ; he  does  but  distinctly  state  it ; but  he 
thinks  it  self-evident  when  it  is  distinctly  stated.  And 
there  he  leaves  it. 

4- 

Taking  his  primary  position  henceforth  for  granted, 
he  will  proceed  as  follows: — ^'Well,  then,  if  Religion  is 
just  one  of  those  subjects  about  which  we  can  know  no- 
thing, what  can  be  so  absurd  as  to  spend  time  upon  it } 
what  so  absurd  as  to  quarrel  with  others  about  it } Let 
us  all  keep  to  our  own  religious  opinions  respectively, 
and  be  content ; but  so  far  from  it,  upon  no  subject 
whatever  has  the  intellect  of  man  been  fastened  so  in- 
tensely as  upon  Religion.  And  the  misery  is,  that,  if 
once  we  allow  it  to  engage  our  attention,  we  are  in  a 
circle  from  which  we  never  shall  be  able  to  extricate 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day.  389 


ourselves.  Our  mistake  reproduces  and  corroborates  itself. 
A small  insect,  a wasp  or  a fly,  is  unable  to  make  his  way 
through  the  pane  of  glass  ; and  his  very  failure  is  the  oc- 
casion of  greater  violence  in  his  struggle  than  before.  He 
is  as  heroically  obstinate  in  his  resolution  to  succeed  as 
the  assailant  or  defender  of  some  critical  battle-field  ; he 
is  unflagging  and  fierce  in  an  effort  which  cannot  lead  to 
anything  beyond  itself.  When,  then,  in  like  manner,  you 
have  once  resolved  that  certain  religious  doctrines  shall  be 
indisputably  true,  and  that  all  men  ought  to  perceive  their 
truth,  you  have  engaged  in  an  undertaking  which,  though 
continued  on  to  eternity,  will  never  reach  its  aim  ; and, 
since  you  are  convinced  it  ought  to  do  so,  the  more  you 
have  failed  hitherto,  the  more  violent  and  pertinacious  will 
be  your  attempt  in  time  to  come.  And  further  still,  since 
you  are  not  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  is  in  this  error, 
but  one  of  ten  thousand,  all  holding  the  general  principle 
that  Religion  is  scientific,  and  yet  all  differing  as  to  the 
truths  and  facts  and  conclusions  of  this  science,  it  follows 
that  the  misery  of  social  disputation  and  disunion  is  added 
to  the  misery  of  a hopeless  investigation,  and  life  is  not 
only  wasted  in  fruitless  speculation,  but  embittered  by 
bigotted  sectarianism. 

Such  is  the  state  in  which  the  world  has  laid,”  it  will 
be  said,  “ ever  since  the  introduction  of  Christianity. 
Christianity  has  been  the  bane  of  true  knowledge,  for  it 
has  turned  the  intellect  away  from  what  it  can  know,  and 
occupied  it  in  what  it  cannot.  Differences  of  opinion  crop 
up  and  multiply  themselves,  in  proportion  to  the  diffi- 
culty of  deciding  them  ; and  the  unfruitfulness  of  Theo- 
logy has  been,  in  matter  of  fact,  the  very  reason,  not  for 
seeking  better  food,  but  for  feeding  on  nothing  else. 
Truth  has  been  sought  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  the 
attainable  has  been  put  aside  for  the  visionary.” 


390  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 

Now,  there  is  no  call  on  me  here  to  refute  these  argu- 
ments, but  merely  to  state  them.  I need  not  refute  what 
has  not  yet  been  proved.  It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  repeat 
what  I have  already  said,  that  they  are  founded  upon  a 
mere  assumption.  Supposing,  indeed,  religious  truth  can- 
not be  ascertained,  then,  of  course,  it  is  not  only  idle,  but 
mischievous,  to  attempt  to  do  so;  then,  of  course,  argu- 
ment does  but  increase  the  mistake  of  attempting  it.  But 
surely  both  Catholics  and  Protestants  have  written  solid 
defences  of  Revelation,  of  Christianity,  and  of  dogma,  as 
such,  and  these  are  not  simply  to  be  put  aside  without 
saying  why.  It  has  not  yet  been  shown  by  our  philo- 
sophers to  be  self-evident  that  religious  truth  is  really 
incapable  of  attainment ; on  the  other  hand,  it  has  at 
least  been  powerfully  argued  by  a number  of  profound 
minds  that  it  cmi  be  attained  ; and  the  onus  probandi 
plainly  lies  with  those  who  are  introducing  into  the  world 
what  the  whole  world  feels  to  be  a paradox. 

5. 

However,  wiiere  men  really  are  persuaded  of  all  this, 
however  unreasonable,  what  will  follow  } A feeling,  not 
merely  of  contempt,  but  of  absolute  hatred,  towards  the 
Catholic  theologian  and  the  dogmatic  teacher.  The 
patriot  abhors  and  loathes  the  partizans  who  have  de- 
graded and  injured  his  country  ; and  the  citizen  of  the 
world,  the  advocate  of  the  human  race,  feels  bitter  indig- 
nation at  those  whom  he  holds  to  have  been  its  misleaders 
and  tyrants  for  two  thousand  years.  '‘The  world  has 
lost  two  thousand  years.  It  is  pretty  much  where  it  was 
in  the  days  of  Augustus.  This  is  what  has  come  of  priests.'' 
There  are  those  who  are  actuated  by  a benevolent  liberal- 
ism, and  condescend  to  say  that  Catholics  are  not  worse 
than  other  maintainers  of  dogmatic  theology  There  are 


A Porm  of  in  fidelity  of  the  Day.  39^ 

those,  again,  who  are  good  enough  to  grant  that  the 
Catholic  Church  fostered  knowledge  and  science  up  to 
the  days  of  Galileo,  and  that  she  has  only  retrograded 
for  the  last  several  centuries.  But  the  new  teacher,  whom 
I am  contemplating  in  the  light  of  that  nebula  out  of 
which  he  will  be  concentrated,  echoes  the  words  of  the 
early  persecutor  of  Christians,  that  they  are  the  ‘‘enemies 
of  the  human  race/'  “ But  for  Athanasius,  but  for 
Augustine,  but  for  Aquinas,  the  world  would  have  had 
its  Bacons  and  its  Newtons,  its  Lavoisiers,  its  Cuviers,  its 
Watts,  and  its  Adam  Smiths,  centuries  upon  centuries 
ago.  And  now,  when  at  length  the  true  philosophy  has 
struggled  into  existence,  and  is  making  its  way,  what  is 
left  for  its  champion  but  to  make  an  eager  desperate 
attack  upon  Christian  theology,  the  scabbard  flung  away, 
and  no  quarter  given } and  what  will  be  the  issue  but 
the  triumph  of  the  stronger, — the  overthrow  of  an  old 
error  and  an  odious  tyranny,  and  a reign  of  the  beautiful 
Truth  ? " Thus  he  thinks,  and  he  sits  dreaming  over  the 
inspiring  thought,  and  longs  for  that  approaching,  that 
inevitable  day. 

There  let  us  leave  him  for  the  present,  dreaming  and 
longing  in  his  impotent  hatred  of  a Power  which  Julian 
and  Frederic,  Shaftesbury  and  Voltaire,  and  a thousand 
other  great  sovereigns  and  subtle  thinkers,  have  assailed 
in  vain. 


392 


§ 2.  Policy. 

I. 

IT  is  a miserable  time  when  a man’s  Catholic  profes- 
sion is  no  voucher  for  his  orthodoxy,  and  when  a 
teacher  of  religion  may  be  within  the  Church’s  pale,  yel 
external  to  her  faith.  Such  has  been  for  a season  the 
trial  of  her  children  at  various  eras  of  her  history.  It  was 
the  state  of  things  during  the  dreadful  Arian  ascendancy, 
when  the  flock  had  to  keep  aloof  from  the  shepherd, 
and  the  unsuspicious  Fathers  of  the  Western  Councils 
trusted  and  followed  some  consecrated  sophist  from 
Greece  or  Syria.  It  was  the  case  in  those  passages  of 
medieval  history  when  simony  resisted  the  Supreme 
Pontiff,  or  when  heresy  lurked  in  Universities.  It  was  a 
longer  and  more  tedious  trial,  while  the  controversies 
lasted  with  the  Monophysites  of  old,  and  with  the  Jan- 
senists  in  modern  times.  A great  scandal  it  is  and  a 
perplexity  to  the  little  ones  of  Christ,  to  have  to  choose 
between  rival  claimants  upon  their  allegiance,  or  to  And 
a condemnation  at  length  pronounced  upon  one  whom 
in  their  simplicity  they  have  admired.  We,  too,  in  this 
age  have  our  scandals,  for  scandals  must  be  ; but  they 
are  not  what  they  were  once  ; and  if  it  be  the  just  com- 
plaint of  pious  men  now,  that  never  was  infidelity  so 
rampant,  it  is  their  boast  and  consolation,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  never  was  the  Church  less  troubled  with  false 
teachers,  never  more  united. 

False  teachers  do  not  remain  within  her  pale  now, 


A Form  of  hijidelity  of  the  Day. 


393 


because  they  can  easily  leave  it,  and  because  there  are 
seats  of  error  external  to  her  to  which  they  are  attracted. 

They  went  out  from  us,''  says  the  Apostle,  ‘‘  but  they 
were  not  of  us  ; for  if  they  had  been  of  us,  they  would 
no  doubt  have  continued  with  us  : but  that  they  might 
be  made  manifest  that  they  are  not  all  of  us.”  It  is  a 
great  gain  when  error  becomes  manifest,  for  it  then  ceases 
to  deceive  the  simple.  With  these  thoughts  I began  to 
describe  by  anticipation  the  formation  of  a school  of 
unbelief  external  to  the  Church,  which  perhaps  as  yet 
only  exists,  as  I then  expressed  it,  in  a nebula.  In  the 
middle  ages  it  might  have  managed,  by  means  of  subter- 
fuges, to  maintain  itself  for  a while . within  the  sacred 
limits, — now  of  course  it  is  outside  of  it ; yet  still,  from 
the  intermixture  of  Catholics  with  the  world,  and  the 
present  immature  condition  of  the  false  doctrine,  it  may 
at  first  exert  an  influence  even  upon  those  who  would 
shrink  from  it  if  they  recognized  it  as  it  really  is  and  as 
it  will  ultimately  show  itself  Moreover,  it  is  natural,  and 
not  unprofitable,  for  persons  under  our  circumstances  to 
speculate  on  the  forms  of  error  with  which  a University 
of  this  age  will  have  to  contend,  as  the  medieval  Univer- 
sities had  their  own  special  antagonists.  And  for  both 
reasons  I am  hazarding  some  remarks  on  a set  of  opinions 
and  a line  of  action  which  seems  to  be  at  present,  at  least 
in  its  rudiments,  in  the  seats  of  English  intellect,  whether 
the  danger  dies  away  of  itself  or  not. 

I have  already  said  that  its  fundamental  dogma  is, 
that  nothing  can  be  known  for  certain  about  the  unseen 
world.  This  being  taken  for  granted  as  a self-evident 
point,  undeniable  as  soon  as  stated, it  goes  on,  or  will  go  on, 
to  argue  that,  in  consequence,  the  immense  outlay  which 
has  been  made  of  time,  anxiety,  and  toil,  of  health,  bodily 
and  mental,  upon  theological  researches,  has  been  simply 


3^4  ^ Porni  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 

thrown  away ; nay,  has  been,  not  useless  merely,  but 
even  mischievous,  inasmuch  as  it  has  indirectly  thwarted 
the  cultivation  of  studies  of  far  greater  promise  and 
of  an  evident  utility.  This  is  the  main  position  of  the 
School  I am  contemplating ; and  the  result,  in  the  minds 
of  its  members,  is  a deep  hatred  and  a bitter  resentment 
against  the  Power  which  has  managed,  as  they  consider, 
to  stunt  the  world  s knowledge  and  the  intellect  of  man 
for  so  many  hundred  years.  Thus  much  I have  already 
said,  and  now  I am  going  to  state  the  line  of  policy  which 
these  people  will  adopt,  and  the  course  of  thought  which 
that  policy  of  theirs  will  make  necessary  to  them  or 
natural. 

2. 

Supposing,  then,  it  is  the  main  tenet  of  the  School 
in  question,  that  the  study  of  Religion  as  a science  has 
been  the  bane  of  philosophy  and  knowledge,  what 
remedy  will  its  masters  apply  for  the  evils  they  de- 
plore } Should  they  profess  themselves  the  antagonists 
of  theology,  and  engage  in  argumentative  exercises  with 
theologians  ? This  evidently  would  be  to  increase,  to 
perpetuate  the  calamity.  Nothing,  they  will  say  to  them- 
selves, do  religious  men  desire  so  ardently,  nothing  would 
so  surely  advance  the  cause  of  Religion,  as  Controversy. 
The  very  policy  of  religious  men,  they  will  argue,  is  to  get 
the  world  to  fix  its  attention  steadily  upon  the  subject  of 
Religion,  and  Controversy  is  the  most  effectual  means  of 
doing  this.  And  their  own  game,  they  will  consider, 
is,  on  the  contrary,  to  be  elaborately  silent  about  it. 
Should  they  not  then  go  on  to  shut  up  the  theological 
schools,  and  exclude  Religion  from  the  subjects  scienti- 
fically treated  in  philosophical  education  ? This  indeed 
has  been,  and  is,  a favourite  mode  of  proceeding  with  very 


395 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 

many  of  the  enemies  of  Theology  ; but  still  it  cannot  be 
said  to  have  been  justified  by  any  greater  success  than  the 
policy  of  Controversy.  The  establishment  of  the  Lon- 
don University  only  gave  immediate  occasion  to  the 
establishment  of  King  s College,  founded  on  the  dogma- 
tic  principle  ; and  the  liberalism  of  the  Dutch  govern- 
ment led  to  the  restoration  of  the  University  of  Louvain. 
It  is  a well-known  story  how  the  very  absence  of  the 
statues  of  Brutus  and  Cassius  brought  them  more  vividly 
into  the  recollection  of  the  Roman  people.  When,  then, 
in  a comprehensive  scheme  of  education,  Religion  alone 
is  excluded,  that  exclusion  pleads  in  its  behalf.  What- 
ever be  the  real  value  of  Religion,  say  these  philosophers 
to  themselves,  it  has  a name  in  the  world,  and  must  not 
be  ill-treated,  lest  men  should  rally  round  it  from  a feel- 
ing  of  generosity.  They  will  decide,  in  consequence,  that 
the  exclusive  method,  though  it  has  met  with  favour  in 
this  generation,  is  quite  as  much  a mistake  as  the  con- 
troversial. 

Turning,  then,  to  the  Universities  of  England,  they 
will  pronounce  that  the  true  policy  to  be  observed  there 
would  be  simply  to  let  the  schools  of  Theology  alone. 
Most  unfortunate  it  is  that  they  have  been  roused  from 
the  state  of  decadence  and  torpor  in  which  they  lay  some 
twenty  or  thirty  years  ago.  Up  to  that  time,  a routine 
lecture,  delivered  once  to  successive  batches  of  young 
men  destined  for  the  Protestant  Ministry,  not  during 
their  residence,  but  when  they  were  leaving  or  had 
already  left  the  University, — and  not  about  dogmatics, 
history,  ecclesiastical  law,  or  casuistry,  but  about  the  list 
of  authors  to  be  selected  and  works  to  be  read  by  those 
who  had  neither  curiosity  to  read  them  nor  money  to 
purchase  ; — and  again  a periodical  “advertisement  of  a 
lecture  on  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  which  was  never 


396  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 


delivered  because  it  was  never  attended, — these  two  de- 
monstrations, one  undertaken  by  one  theological  Pro- 
fessor, the  other  by  another,  comprised  the  theological 
teaching  of  a seat  of  learning  which  had  been  the  home 
of  Duns  Scotus  and  Alexander  Hales.  What  envious 
mischance  put  an  end  to  those  halcyon  days,  and  revived 
the  oditim  theologicum  in  the  years  which  followed  } Let 
us  do  justice  to  the  authoritative  rulers  of  the  University; 
they  have  their  failings ; but  not  to  them  is  the  revo- 
lution to  be  ascribed.  It  was  nobody’s  fault  among  all 
the  guardians  of  education  and  trustees  of  the  intellect 
in  that  celebrated  place.  However,  the  mischief  has 
been  done;  and  now  the  wisest  course  for  the  interests 
of  infidelity  is  to  leave  it  to  itself,  and  let  the  fever 
gradually  subside  ; treatment  would  but  irritate  it.  Not 
to  interfere  with  Theology,  not  to  raise  a little  finger 
against  it,  is  the  only  means  of  superseding  it.  The 
more  bitter  is  the  hatred  which  such  men  bear  it,  the 
less  they  must  show  it. 


3. 

What,  then,  is  the  line  of  action  which  they  must  pur- 
sue ? They  think,  and  rightly  think,  that,  in  all  contests, 
the  wisest  and  largest  policy  is  to  conduct  a positive, 
not  a negative  opposition,  not  to  prevent  but  to  antici- 
pate, to  obstruct  by  constructing,  and  to  exterminate  by 
supplanting.  To  cast  any  slight  upon  Theology,  whether 
in  its  Protestant  or  its  Catholic  schools,  would  be  to 
elicit  an  inexhaustible  stream  of  polemics,  and  a phalanx 
of  dogmatic  doctors  and  confessors. 

“ Let  alone  Camarina,  for  *tis  best  let  alone.” 

The  proper  procedure,  then,  is,  not  to  oppose  Theology, 
but  to  rival  it.  Leave  its  teachers  to  themselves ; merely 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day.  397 


aim  at  the  introduction  of  other  studies,  which,  while 
they  have  the  accidental  charm  of  novelty,  possess  a 
surpassing  interest,  richness,  and  practical  value  of  their 
own.  Get  possession  of  these  studies,  and  appropriate 
them,  and  monopolize  the  use  of  them,  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  votaries  of  Religion.  Take  it  for  granted,  and 
protest,  for  the  future,  that  Religion  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  studies  to  which  I am  alluding,  nor  those  studies 
with  Religion.  Exclaim  and  cry  out,  if  the  Catholic 
Church  presumes  herself  to  handle  what  you  mean  to 
use  as  a weapon  against  her.  The  range  of  the  Experi- 
mental Sciences,  viz., psychology,  and  politics,  and  political 
economy,  and  the  many  departments  of  physics,  various 
both  in  their  subject-matter  and  their  method  of  re- 
search ; the  great  Sciences  which  are  the  characteristics 
of  this  era,  and  which  become  the  more  marvellous, 
the  more  thoroughly  they  are  understood, — astronomy, 
magnetism,  chemistry,  geology,  comparative  anatomy, 
natural  history,  ethnology,  languages,  political  geography, 
antiquities, — these  be  your  indirect  but  effectual  means 
of  overturning  Religion ! They  do  but  need  to  be 
seen  in  order  to  be  pursued ; you  will  put  an  end, 
in  the  Schools  of  learning,  to  the  long  reign  of  the  un- 
seen shadowy  world,  by  the  mere  exhibition  of  the 
visible.  This  was  impossible  heretofore,  for  the  visible 
world  was  so  little  known  itself ; but  now,  thanks  to  the 
New  Philosophy,  sight  is  able  to  contest  the  field  with 
faith.  The  medieval  philosopher  had  no  weapon  against 
Revelation  but  Metaphysics  ; Physical  Science  has  a 
better  temper,  if  not  a keener  edge,  for  the  purpose. 

Now  here  I interrupt  the  course  of  thought  I am 
tracing,  to  introduce  a caveat,  lest  I should  be  thought 
to  cherish  any  secret  disrespect  towards  the  sciences  I 
have  enumerated,  or  apprehension  of  their  legitimate 


398  A Form  0/ Infidelity  0/  the  Day. 

tendencies  ; whereas  my  very  object  is  to  protest  against 
a monopoly  of  them  by  others.  And  it  is  not  surely  a 
heavy  imputation  on  them  to  say  that  they,  as  other 
divine  gifts,  may  be  used  to  wrong  purposes,  with  which 
they  have  no  natural  connection,  and  for  which  they 
were  never  intended  ; and  that,  as  in  Greece  the  element 
of  beauty,  with  which  the  universe  is  flooded,  and  the 
poetical  faculty,  which  is  its  truest  interpreter,  were 
made  to  minister  to  sensuality ; as,  in  the  middle  ages, 
abstract  speculation,  another  great  instrument  of  truth, 
was  often  frittered  away  in  sophistical  exercises  ; so  now, 
too,  the  department  of  fact,  and  the  method  of  research 
and  experiment  which  is  proper  to  it,  may  for  the  moment 
eclipse  the  light  of  faith  in  the  imagination  of  the  student, 
and  be  degraded  into  the  accidental  tool,  hie  et  7iimc,  of 
infidelity.  I am  as  little  hostile  to  physical  science  as  I 
am  to  poetry  or  metaphysics  ; but  I wish  for  studies  of 
every  kind  a legitimate  application  : nor  do  I grudge 
them  to  anti-Catholics,  so  that  anti-Catholics  will  not 
claim  to  monopolize  them,  cry  out  when  we  profess 
them,  or  direct  them  against  Revelation. 

I wish,  indeed,  I could  think  that  these  studies  were 
not  intended  by  a certain  school  of  philosophers  to  bear 
directly  against  its  authority.  There  are  those  who  hope, 
there  are  those  who  are  sure,  that  in  the  incessant  inves- 
tigation of  facts,  physical,  political,  and  moral,  something 
or  other,  or  many  things,  will  sooner  or  later  turn  up, 
and  stubborn  facts  too,  simply  contradictory  of  revealed 
declarations.  A vision  comes  before  them  of  some  phy- 
sical or  historical  proof  tnat  mankind  is  not  descended 
from  a common  origin,  or  that  the  hopes  of  the  world 
were  never  consigned  to  a wooden  ark  floating  on  the 
waters,  or  that  the  manifestations  on  Mount  Sinai  were 
the  work  of  man  or  nature,  or  that  the  Hebrew  patriarchs 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day, 


399 


or  the  judges  of  Israel  are  mythical  personages,  or  that 
St.  Peter  had  no  connection  with  Rome,  or  that  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Holy  Trinity  or  of  the  Real  Presence  was 
foreign  to  primitive  belief.  An  anticipation  possesses 
them  that  the  ultimate  truths  embodied  in  mesmerism 
will  certainly  solve  all  the  Gospel  miracles ; or  that  to 
Niebuhrize  the  Gospels  or  the  Fathers  is  a simple 
expedient  for  stultifying  the  whole  Catholic  system. 
They  imagine  that  the  eternal,  immutable  word  of  God 
is  to  quail  and  come  to  nought  before  the  penetrating 
intellect  of  man.  And,  where  this  feeling  exists,  there 
will  be  a still  stronger  motive  for  letting  Theology  alone. 
That  party,  with  whom  success  is  but  a matter  of  time, 
can  afford  to  wait  patiently ; and  if  an  inevitable  train 
is  laid  for  blowing  up  the  fortress,  why  need  we  be 
anxious  that  the  catastrophe  should  take  place  to-day, 
rather  than  to-morrow } 


4* 

But,  without  making  too  much  of  their  own  anticipa- 
tions on  this  point,  which  may  or  may  not  be  in  part 
fulfilled,  these  men  have  secure  grounds  for  knowing  that 
the  sciences,  as  they  would  pursue  them,  will  at  least  be 
prejudicial  to  the  religious  sentiment.  Any  one  study, 
of  whatever  kind,  exclusively  pursued,  deadens  in  the 
mind  the  interest,  nay,  the  perception  of  any  other.  Thus. 
Cicero  says  that  Plato  and  Demosthenes,  Aristotle  and 
Isocrates,  might  have  respectively  excelled  in  each  other  s 
province,  but  that  each  was  absorbed  in  his  own ; his 
words  are  emphatic ; ‘‘quorum  uterque,  suo  studio  delec- 
tatus,  contemsit  alterum.''  Specimens  of  this  peculiarity 
occur  every  day.  You  can  hardly  persuade  some  men 
to  talk  about  any  thing  but  their  own  pursuit ; they  refer 
the  whole  world  to  their  own  centre^  and  measure  all 


/ 


400  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day, 

matters  by  their  own  rule,  like  the  fisherman  in  the 
drama,  whose  eulogy  on  his  deceased  lord  was,  that  ‘‘  he 
was  so  fond  of  fish.”  The  saints  illustrate  this  on  the 
other  hand  ; St.  Bernard  had  no  eye  for  architecture ; 
St.  Basil  had  no  nose  for  flowers ; St.  Aloysius  had  no 
palate  for  meat  and  drink  ; St.  Paula  or  St.  Jane  Frances 
could  spurn  or  could  step  over  her  own  child  ; — not  that 
natural  faculties  were  wanting  to  those  great  servants  of 
God,  but  that  a higher  gift  outshone  and  obscured  every 
lower  attribute  of  man,  as  human  features  may  remain 
in  heaven,  yet  the  beauty  of  them  be  killed  by  the  sur- 
passing light  of  glory.  And  in  like  manner  it  is  clear 
that  the  tendency  of  science  is  to  make  men  indiffer- 
entists  or  sceptics,  merely  by  being  exclusively  pursued. 
The  party,  then,  of  whom  I speak,  understanding  this 
well,  would  suffer  disputations  in  the  theological  schools 
every  day  in  the  year,  provided  they  can  manage  to  keep 
the  students  of  science  at  a distance  from  them. 

Nor  is  this  all ; they  trust  to  the  influence  of  the 
modern  sciences  on  what  may  be  called  the  Imagination. 
When  any  thing,  which  comes  before  us,  is  very  unlike 
what  we  commonly  experience,  we  consider  it  on  that 
account  untrue  ; not  because  it  really  shocks  our  reason 
as  improbable,  but  because  it  startles  our  imagination  as 
strange.  Now,  Revelation  presents  to  us  a perfectly  dif- 
ferent aspect  of  the  universe  from  that  presented  by  the 
Sciences.  The  two  informations  are  like  the  distinct 
subjects  represented  by  the  lines  of  the  same  drawing, 
which,  accordingly  as  they  are  read  on  their  concave  or 
convex  side,  exhibit  to  us  now  a group  of  trees  with 
branches  and  leaves,  and  now  human  faces  hid  amid  the 
leaves,  or  some  majestic  figures  standing  out  from  the 
branches.  Thus  is  faith  opposed  to  sight : it  is  parallel 
to  the  contrast  afforded  by  plane  astronomy  and  physical ; 


A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day.  401 


plane,  in  accordance  with  our  senses,  discourses  of  the 
sun’s  rising  and  setting,  while  physical,  in  accordance 
with  our  reason,  asserts,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  sun  is 
all  but  stationary,  and  that  it  is  the  earth  that  moves. 
This  is  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  truth  lies  in  a well; 
phenomena  are  no  measure  of  fact ; primA  facie  repre- 
sentations, which  we  receive  from  without,  do  not  reach 
to  the  real  state  of  things,  or  put  them  before  us  simply 
as  they  are. 

While,  then.  Reason  and  Revelation  are  consistent  in 
fact,  they  often  are  inconsistent  in  appearance ; and 
this  seeming  discordance  acts  most  keenly  and  alarm- 
ingly on  the  Imagination,  and  may  suddenly  expose  a 
man  to  the  temptation,  and  even  hurry  him  on  to  the 
commission,  of  definite  acts  of  unbelief,  in  which  reason 
itself  really  does  not  come  into  exercise  at  all.  I mean, 
let  a person  devote  himself  to  the  studies  of  the  day ; 
let  him  be  taught  by  the  astronomer  that  our  sun  is  but 
one  of  a million  central  luminaries,  and  our  earth  but  one 
of  ten  million  globes  moving  in  space ; let  him  learn 
from  the  geologist  that  on  that  globe  of  ours  enormous 
revolutions  have  been  in  progress  through  innumerable 
ages ; let  him  be  told  by  the  comparative  anatomist 
of  the  minutely  arranged  system  of  organized  nature^ 
by  the  chemist  and  physicist,  of  the  peremptory  yet 
intricate  laws  to  which  nature,  organized  and  inorganic, 
is  subjected  ; by  the  ethnologist,  of  the  originals,  and 
ramifications,  and  varieties,  and  fortunes  of  nations ; by 
the  antiquarian,  of  old  cities  disinterred,  and  primitive 
countries  laid  bare,  with  the  specific  forms  of  humaa 
society  once  existing  ; by  the  linguist,  of  the  slow  form- 
ation and  development  of  languages ; by  the  psycho- 
logist, the  physiologist,  and  the  economist,  of  the  subtle, 
complicated  structure  of  the  breathing,  energetic,  restless 

26 


402  A Fonn  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day. 


world  of  men  ; I say,  let  him  take  in  and  master  the 
vastness  of  the  view  thus  afforded  him  of  Nature,  its 
infinite  complexity,  its  awful  comprehensiveness,  and  its 
diversified  yet  harmonious  colouring ; and  then,  when  he 
has  for  years  drank  in  and  fed  upon  this  vision,  let  him 
turn  round  to  peruse  the  inspired  records,  or  listen  to 
the  authoritative  teaching  of  Revelation,  the  book  of 
Genesis,  or  the  warnings  and  prophecies  of  the  Gospels, 
or  the  Symbolum  Quicumque^  or  the  Life  of  St.  Antony 
or  St.  Hilarion,  and  he  may  certainly  experience  a most 
distressing  revulsion  of  feeling,^ — not  that  his  reason 
really  deduces  any  thing  from  his  much  loved  studies 
contrary  to  the  faith,  but  that  his  imagination  is  be- 
wildered, and  swims  with  the  sense  of  the  ineffable  dis- 
tance of  that  faith  from  the  view  of  things  which  is 
familiar  to  him,  with  its  strangeness,  and  then  again 
its  rude  simplicity,  as  he  considers  it,  and  its  apparent 
poverty  contrasted  with  the  exuberant  life  and  reality 
of  his  own  world.  All  this,  the  school  I am  speaking 
of  understands  well ; it  comprehends  that,  if  it  can 
but  exclude  the  professors  of  Religion  from  the  lecture- 
halls  of  science,  it  may  safely  allow  them  full  play  in 
their  own ; for  it  will  be  able  to  rear  up  infidels,  without 
speaking  a word,  merely  by  the  terrible  influence  of  that 
faculty  against  which  both  Bacon  and  Butler  so  solemnly 
warn  us. 

I say,  it  leaves  the  theologian  the  full  and  free  pos- 
session of  his  own  schools,  for  it  thinks  he  will  have  no 
chance  of  arresting  the  opposite  teaching  or  of  rivalling 
the  fascination  of  modern  science.  Knowing  little,  and 
caring  less  for  the  depth  and  largeness  of  that  heavenly 
Wisdom,  on  which  the  Apostle  delights  to  expatiate,  or 
the  variety  of  those  sciences,  dogmatic  or  ethical,  mysti- 
^ Vid,  University  Sermons,  vii.,  14. 


A Form  of  hifidelity  of  the  Day, 


403 


cal  or  hagiological,  historical  or  exegetical,  which  Reve- 
lation has  created,  these  philosophers  know  perfectly 
well  that,  in  matter  of  fact,  to  beings,  constituted  as  we 
are,  sciences  which  concern  this  world  and  this  state  of 
existence  are  worth  far  more,  are  more  arresting  and 
attractive,  than  those  which  relate  to  a system  of  things 
which  they  do  not  see  and  cannot  master  by  their  natural 
powers.  Sciences  which  deal  with  tangible  facts,  prac- 
tical results,  evergrowing  discoveries,  and  perpetual 
novelties,  which  feed  curiosity,  sustain  attention,  and 
stimulate  expectation,  require,  they  consider,  but  a fair 
stage  and  no  favour  to  distance  that  Ancient  Truth, 
which  never  changes  and  but  cautiously  advances,  in 
the  race  for  popularity  and  power.  And  therefore  they 
look  out  for  the  day  when  they  shall  have  put  down 
Religion,  not  by  shutting  its  schools,  but  by  emptying 
them  ; not  by  disputing  its  tenets,  but  by  the  superior 
worth  and  persuasiveness  of  their  own. 

5. 

Such  is  the  tactic  which  a new  school  of  philosophers 
adopt  against  Christian  Theology.  They  have  this 
characteristic,  compared  with  former  schools  of  infidelity, 
viz.,  the  union  of  intense  hatred  with  a large  toleration 
of  Theology.  They  are  professedly  civil  to  it,  and  run 
a race  with  it.  They  rely,  not  on  any  logical  disproof 
of  it,  but  on  three  considerations  ; first,  on  the  effects  of 
studies  of  whatever  kind  to  indispose  the  mind  towards 
other  studies ; next,  on  the  special  effect  of  modern 
sciences  upon  the  imagination,  prejudicial  to  revealed 
truth ; and  lastly,  on  the  absorbing  interest  attached  to 
those  sciences  from  their  marvellous  results.  This  line 
of  action  will  be  forced  upon  these  persons  by  the  pecu- 
liar character  and  position  of  Religion  in  England. 


404  A Form  of  Infidelity  of  the  Day, 

And  here  I have  arrived  at  the  limits  of  my  paper 
before  I have  finished  the  discussion  upon  which  I have 
entered  ; and  I must  be  content  with  having  made  some 
suggestions  which,  if  worth  anything,  others  may  use. 


405 


VI. 


UNIVERSITY  PREACHING. 


1. 

WHEN  I obtained  from  various  distinguished  per- 
sons the  acceptable  promise  that  they  would  give 
me  the  advantage  of  their  countenance  and  assistance  by 
appearing  from  time  to  time  in  the  pulpit  of  our  new 
University,  some  of  them  accompanied  that  promise  with 
the  natural  request  that  I,  who  had  asked  for  it,  should 
offer  them  my  own  views  of  the  mode  and  form  in  which 
the  duty  would  be  most  satisfactorily  accomplished.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  was  quite  as  natural  that  I on  my  part 
should  be  disinclined  to  take  on  myself  an  office  which 
belongs  to  a higher  station  and  authority  in  the  Church 
than  my  own  ; and  the  more  so,  because,  on  the  definite 
subject  about  which  the  inquiry  is  made,  I should  have 
far  less  direct  aid  from  the  writings  of  holy  men  and  great 
divines  than  I could  desire.  Were  it  indeed  my  sole 
business  to  put  into  shape  the  scattered  precepts  which 
saints  and  doctors  have  delivered  upon  it,  I might  have 
ventured  on  such  a task  with  comparatively  little  mis- 
giving. Under  the  shadow  of  the  great  teachers  of  the 
pastoral  office  I might  have  been  content  to  speak,  with- 
out looking  out  for  any  living  authority  to  prompt  me. 
But  this  unfortunately  is  not  the  case  ; such  venerable 
guidance  does  not  extend  beyond  the  general  principles 


4o6 


University  Preaching, 


and  rules  of  preaching,  and  these  require  both  expansion 
and  adaptation  when  they  are  to  be  made  to  bear  on 
compositions  addressed  in  the  name  of  a University  to 
University  men.  They  define  the  essence  of  Christian 
preaching,  which  is  one  and  the  same  in  all  cases  ; but 
not  the  subject-matter  or  the  method,  which  vary  accord- 
ing to  circumstances.  Still,  after  all,  the  points  to  which 
they  do  reach  are  more,  and  more  important,  than  those 
which  they  fall  short  of.  I therefore,  though  with  a good 
deal  of  anxiety,  have  attempted  to  perform  a task  which 
seemed  naturally  to  fall  to  me  ; and  I am  thankful  to 
say  that,  though  I must  in  some  measure  go  beyond  the 
range  of  the  simple  direction  to  which  I have  referred, 
the  greater  part  of  my  remarks  will  lie  within  it, 

2. 

I.  So  far  is  clear  at  once,  that  the  preacher’s  object  is 
the  spiritual  good  of  his  hearers.  Finis  praedicanti  sit,’’ 
says  St.  Francis  de  Sales;  '^ut  vitam  (justitiae)  habeant 
homilies,  et  abundantius  habeant.”  And  St.  Charles  : 

Considerandum,  ad  Dei  omnipotentis  gloriam,  ad  ani- 
marumque  salutem,  referri  omnem  concionandi  vim  ac 
rationem.”  Moreover,  Praedicatorem  esse  ministrum 
Dei,  per  quern  verbum  Dei  a spiriths  fonte  ducitur  ad 
fidelium  animas  irrigandas.”  As  a marksman  aims  at 
the  target  and  its  bull’s-eye,  and  at  nothing  else,  so  the 
preacher  must-have  a definite  point  before  him,  which  he 
has  to  hit.  So  much  is  contained  for  his  direction  in  this 
simple  maxim,  that  duly  to  enter  into  it  and  use  it  is  half 
the  battle  ; and  if  he  mastered  nothing  else,  still  if  he 
really  mastered  as  much  as  this,  he  would  know  all  that 
was  imperative  for  the  due  discharge  of  his  office. 

For  what  is  the  conduct  of  men  who  have  one  object 
definitely  before  them,  and  one  only  } Why,  that,  what- 


University  Preaching. 


407 


ever  be  their  skill,  whatever  their  resources,  greater  or 
less,  to  its  attainment  all  their  efforts  are  simply,  spon- 
taneously, visibly,  directed.  This  cuts  off  a number  of 
questions  sometimes  asked  about  preaching,  and  extin- 
guishes  a number  of  anxieties.  “Sollicita  es,  et  turbaris,^^ 
says  our  Lord  to  St.  Martha;  ‘‘erga  plurima;  porrounum 
est  necessarium.'’  We  ask  questions  perhaps  about  dic- 
tion, elocution,  rhetorical  power;  but  does  the  commander 
of  a besieging  force  dream  of  holiday  displays,  reviews, 
mock  engagements,  feats  of  strength,  or  trials  of  skill, 
such  as  would  be  graceful  and  suitable  on  a parade 
ground  when  a foreigner  of  rank  was  to  be  received  and 
feted ; or  does  he  aim  at  one  and  one  thing  only,  viz.,  to 
take  the  strong  place } Display  dissipates  the  energy, 
which  for  the  object  in  view  needs  to  be  concentrated 
and  condensed.  We  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
Divine  blessing  follows  the  lead  of  human  accomplish- 
ments. Indeed,  St.  Paul,  writing  to  the  Corinthians, 
who  made  much  of  such  advantages  of  nature,  contrasts 
the  persuasive  words  of  human  wisdom  with  the  show- 
ing  of  the  Spirit,”  and  tells  us  that  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  not  in  speech,  but  in  power.” 

But,  not  to  go  to  the  consideration  of  divine  influences, 
which  is  beyond  my  subject,  the  very  presence  of  simple 
earnestness  is  even  in  itself  a powerful  natural  instrument 
to  effect  that  toward  which  it  is  directed.  Earnestness 
creates  earnestness  in  others  by  sympathy ; and  the  more 
a preacher  loses  and  is  lost  to  himself,  the  more  does  he 
gain  his  brethren.  Nor  is  it  without  some  logical  force 
also ; for  what  is  powerful  enough  to  absorb  and  possess 
a preacher  has  at  least  a primd  facie  claim  of  attention 
on  the  part  of  his  hearers.  On  the  other  hand,  any  thing 
which  interferes  with  this  earnestness,  or  which  argues 
its  absence,  is  still  more  certain  to  blunt  the  force  of  the 


4o8 


U7iiversity  Preaching. 


most  cogent  argument  conveyed  in  the  most  eloquent 
language.  Hence  it  is  that  the  great  philosopher  of 
antiquity,  in  speaking,  in  his  Treatise  on  Rhetoric,  of 
the  various  kinds  of  persuasives,  which  are  available  in 
the  Art,  considers  the  most  authoritative  of  these  to  be 
that  which  is  drawn  from  personal  traits  of  an  ethical 
nature  evident  in  the  orator ; for  such  matters  are  cog* 
nizable  by  all  men,  and  the  common  sense  of  the  world 
decides  that  it  is  safer,  where  it  is  possible,  to  commit 
oneself  to  the  judgment  of  men  of  character  than  to  any 
considerations  addressed  merely  to  the  feelings  or  to  the 
reason. 

On  these  grounds  I would  go  on  to  lay  down  a precept, 
which  I trust  is  not  extravagant,  when  allowance  is  made 
for  the  preciseness  and  the  point  which  are  unavoidable 
in  all  categorical  statements  upon  matters  of  conduct. 
It  is,  that  preachers  should  neglect  everything  whatever 
besides  devotion  to  their  one  object,  and  earnestness  in 
pursuing  it,  till  they  in  some  good  measure  attain  to  these 
requisites.  Talent,  logic,  learning,  words,  manner,  voice, 
action,  all  are  required  for  the  perfection  of  a preacher  ; 
but  one  thing  is  necessary,'' — an  intense  perception  and 
appreciation  of  the  end  for  which  he  preaches,  and  that  is, 
to  be  the  minister  of  some  definite  spiritual  good  to  those 
who  hear  him.  Who  could  wish  to  be  more  eloquent, 
more  powerful,  more  successful  than  the  Teacher  of  the 
Nations  ? yet  who  more  earnest,  who  more  natural,  who 
more  unstudied,  who  more  self-forgetting  than  he  ? 

3- 

(i.)  And  here,  in  order  to  prevent  misconception,  two 
remarks  must  be  made,  which  will  lead  us  further  into 
the  subject  we  are  engaged  upon.  The  first  is,  that,  in 
what  I have  been  saying,  I do  not  mean  that  a preacher 


University  Preachmg. 


409 


must  aim  at  earnestness^  but  that  he  must  aim  at  his 
object^  which  is  to  do  some  spiritual  good  to  his  hearers, 
and  which  will  at  once  make  him  earnest.  It  is  said 
that,  when  a man  has  to  cross  an  abyss  by  a narrow 
plank  thrown  over  it,  it  is  his  wisdom,  not  to  look  at  the 
plank,  along  which  lies  his  path,  but  to  fix  his  eyes 
steadily  on  the  point  in  the  opposite  precipice  at  which 
the  plank  ends.  It  is  by  gazing  at  the  object  which  he 
must  reach,  and  ruling  himself  by  it,  that  he  secures  to 
himself  the  power  of  walking  to  it  straight  and  steadily. 
The  case  is  the  same  in  moral  matters ; no  one  will 
become  really  earnest  by  aiming  directly  at  earnest- 
ness ; any  one  may  become  earnest  by  meditating  on 
the  motives,  and  by  drinking  at  the  sources,  of  earnest- 
ness. We  may  of  course  work  ourselves  up  into  a pre- 
tence, nay,  into  a paroxysm,  of  earnestness ; as  we  may 
chafe  our  cold  hands  till  they  are  warm.  But  when  we 
cease  chafing,  we  lose  the  warmth  again  ; on  the  con- 
trary, let  the  sun  come  out  and  strike  us  with  his  beams, 
and  we  need  no  artificial  chafing  to  be  warm.  The  hot 
words,  then,  and  energetic  gestures  of  a preacher,  taken 
by  themselves,  are  just  as  much  signs  of  earnestness  as 
rubbing  the  hands  or  flapping  the  arms  together  are 
signs  of  warmth  ; though  they  are  natural  where  earnest- 
ness already  exists,  and  pleasing  as  being  its  spontaneous 
concomitants.  To  sit  down  to  compose  for  the  pulpit 
with  a resolution  to  be  eloquent  is  one  impediment  to 
persuasion ; but  to  be  determined  to  be  earnest  is  abso- 
lutely fatal  to  it 

He  who  has  before  his  mental  eye  the  Four  Last 
Things  will  have  the  true  earnestness,  the  horror  or  the 
rapture,  of  one  who  witnesses  a conflagration,  or  discerns 
some  rich  and  sublime  prospect  of  natural  scenery.  His 
countenance,  his  nianner,  his  voice,  speak  for  him,  in  pro- 


410 


University  Preaching. 


portion  as  his  view  has  been  vivid  and  minute.  l‘he 
great  English  poet  has  described  this  sort  of  eloquence 
when  a calamity  had  befallen 

Yea,  this  man’s  brow,  like  to  a title  page, 

Foretells  the  nature  of  a tragic  volume. 

Thou  tremblest,  and  the  whiteness  in  thy  cheek 
Is  apter  than  thy  tongue  to  tell  thy  errand. 

It  is  this  earnestness,  in  the  supernatural  order,  which 
is  the  eloquence  of  saints;  and  not  of  saints  only,  but  of 
all  Christian  preachers,  according  to  the  measure  ol 
their  faith  and  love.  As  the  case  would  be  with  one 
who  has  actually  seen  what  he  relates,  the  herald  of 
tidings  of  the  invisible  world  also  will  be,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  whether  vehement  or  calm,  sad  or 
exulting,  always  simple,  grave,  emphatic,  and  peremp- 
tory ; and  all  this,  not  because  he  has  proposed  to  him- 
self to  be  so,  but  because  certain  intellectual  convictions 
involve  certain  external  manifestations.  St.  Francis  de 
Sales  is  full  and  clear  upon  this  point.  It  is  necessary, 
he  says,  '^ut  ipsemet  penitus  hauseris,  ut  persuasissimam 
tibi  habeas,  doctrinam  quam  aliis  persuasam  cupis. 
Artificium  summum  erit,  nullum  habere  artificium.  In- 
flammata  sint  verba,  non  clamoribus  gesticulationibusve 
immodicis,  sed  interiore  affectione.  De  corde  plus  quam 
de  ore  proficiscantur.  Quantumvis  ore  dixerimus,  sane 
cor  cordi  loquitur,  lingua  non  nisi  aures  pulsat.'’  St. 
Augustine  had  said  to  the  same  purpose  long  before  : 
''  Sonus  verborum  nostrorum  aures  percutit ; magister 
intus  est.'’ 

(2.)  My  second  remark  is,  that  it  is  the  preacher's  duty 
to  aim  at  imparting  to  others,  not  any  fortuitous,  unpre- 
meditated benefit,  but  some  definite  spiritual  good.  It  is 
here  that  design  and  study  find  their  place ; the  more 


University  Preaching.  4 1 1 

exact  and  precise  is  the  subject  which  he  treats,  the  more 
impressive  and  practical  will  he  be  ; whereas  no  one  will 
carry  off  much  from  a discourse  which  is  on  the  general 
subject  of  virtue,  or  vaguely  and  feebly  entertains  the 
question  of  the  desirableness  of  attaining  Heaven,  or  the 
rashness  of  incurring  eternal  ruin.  As  a distinct  image 
before  the  mind  makes  the  preacher  earnest,  so  it  will  give 
him  something  which  it  is  worthwhile  to  communicate  to 
others.  Mere  sympathy,  it  is  true,  is  able,  as  I have  said, 
to  transfer  an  emotion  or  sentiment  from  mind  to  mind, 
but  it  is  not  able  to  fix  it  there.  He  must  aim  at  imprint- 
ing on  the  heart  what  will  never  leave  it,  and  this  he 
cannot  do  unless  he  employ  himself  on  some  definite 
subject,  which  he  has  to  handle  and  weigh,  and  then,  as  it 
were,  to  hand  over  from  himself  to  others. 

Hence  it  is  that  the  Saints  insist  so  expressly  on  the 
necessity  of  his  addressing  himself  to  the  intellect  of 
men,  and  of  convincing  as  well  as  persuading.  “ Necesse 
est  ut  doceat  et  moveat,”  says  St.  Francis ; and  St. 
Antoninus  still  more  distinctly  : ''  Debet  praedicator 

dare  loqui,  ut  instruat  intellectum  auditoris,  et  doceat.'' 
Hence,  moreover,  in  St.  Ignatius’s  Exercises,  the  act  of 
the  intellect  precedes  that  of  the  affections.  Father 
Lohner  seems  to  me  to  be  giving  'an  instance  in  point 
when  he  tells  us  of  a court-preacher,  who  delivered  what 
would  be  commonly  considered  eloquent  sermons,  and 
attracted  no  one ; and  next  took  to  simple  explanations 
of  the  Mass  and  similar  subjects,  and  then  found  the 
church  thronged.  So  necessary  is  it  to  have  something 
to  say,  if  we  desire  any  one  to  listen. 

Nay,  I would  go  the  length  of  recommending  a 
preacher  to  place  a distinct  categorical  proposition 
before  him,  such  as  he  can  write  down  in  a form  of  words, 
and  to  guide  and  limit  his  preparation  by  it,  and  to  aim 


412  University  Preaching. 

in  all  he  says  to  bring  it  out,  and  nothing  else.  This 
seems  to  be  implied  or  suggested  in  St.  Charles's  direc- 
tion : ^Td  omnino  studebit,  ut  quod  in  concione  dicturus  est 
antea  bene  cognitum  habeat.”  Nay,  is  it  not  expressly  con- 
veyed in  the  Scripture  phrase  of  preaching  the  word''  ? 
for  what  is  meant  by  the  word  ” but  a proposition  ad- 
dressed to  the  intellect  1 nor  will  a preacher's  earnestness 
show  itself  in  anything  more  unequivocally  than  in  his  re- 
jecting, whatever  be  the  temptation  to  admit  it,  every 
remark,  however  original,  every  period,  however  eloquent, 
which  does  not  in  some  way  or  other  tend  to  bring  out  this 
one  distinct  proposition  which  he  has  chosen.  Nothing  is 
so  fatal  to  the  effect  of  a sermon  as  the  habit  of  preaching 
on  three  or  four  subjects  at  once.  I acknowledge  I am 
advancing  a step  beyond  the  practice  of  great  Catholic 
preachers  when  I add  that,  even  though  we  preach  on 
only  one  at  a time,  finishing  and  dismissing  the  first 
before  we  go  to  the  second,  and  the  second  before  we 
go  to  the  third,  still,  after  all,  a practice  like  this,  though 
not  open  to  the  inconvenience  which  the  confusing  of  one 
subject  with  another  involves,  is  in  matter  of  fact  nothing 
short  of  the  delivery  of  three  sermons  in  succession  with- 
out break  between  them. 

Summing  up,  then]  what  I have  been  saying,  I observe 
that,  if  I have  understood  the  doctrine  of  St.  Charles, 
St.  Francis,  and  other  saints  aright,  definiteness  of  object 
is  in  various  ways  the  one  virtue  of  the  preacher ; — and 
this  means  that  he  should  set  out  with  the  intention  of 
conveying  to  others  some  spiritual  benefit ; that,  with 
a view  to  this,  and  as  the  only  ordinary  way  to  it,  he 
should  select  some  distinct  fact  or  scene,  some  passage 
in  history,  some  truth,  simple  or  profound,  some  doctrine, 
some  principle,  or  some  sentiment,  and  should  study  it 
well  and  thoroughly,  and  first  make  it  his  own,  or  else 


University  Preaching. 


413 


have  already  dwelt  on  it  and  mastered  it,  so  as  to  be 
able  to  use  it  for  the  occasion  from  an  habitual  under- 
standing of  it ; and  that  then  he  should  employ  himself, 
as  the  one  business  of  his  discourse,  to  bring  home  to 
others,  and  to  leave  deep  within  them,  what  he  has,  be- 
fore he  began  to  speak  to  them,  brought  home  to  himself 
What  he  feels  himself,  and  feels  deeply,  he  has  to  make 
others  feel  deeply  ; and  in  proportion  as  he  comprehends 
this,  he  will  rise  above  the  temptation  of  introducing 
collateral  matters,  and  will  have  no  taste,  no  heart,  for 
going  aside  after  flowers  of  oratory,  fine  figures,  tuneful 
periods,  which  are  worth  nothing,  unless  they  come  to 
him  spontaneously,  and  are  spoken  ‘‘out  of  the  abun- 
dance of  the  heart/^  Our  Lord  said  on  one  occasion  : 
“ I am  come  to  send  fire  on  the  earth,  and  what  will  i 
but  that  it  be  kindled?*'  He  had  one  work,  and  He 
accomplished  it.  “ The  words,"  He  says,  “ which  Thou 
gavest  Me,  I have  given  to  them,  and  they  have  received 
them,  . . . and  now  I come  to  Thee."  And  the 

Apostles,  again,  as  they  had  received,  so  were  they  to 
give.  “ That  which  we  have  seen  and  have  heard,"  says 
one  of  them,  “ we  declare  unto  you,  that  you  may  have 
fellowship  with  us."  If,  then,  a preacher  s subject  only 
be  some  portion  of  the  Divine  message,  however  elemen- 
tary it  may  be,  however  trite,  it  will  have  a dignity  such 
as  to  possess  him,  and  a virtue  to  kindle  him,  and  an  in- 
fluence to  subdue  and  convert  those  tc  whom  it  goes 
forth  from  him,  according  to  the  words  of  the  promise, 
“ My  word,  which  shall  go  forth  from  My  mouth,  shall 
not  return  to  Me  void,  but  it  shall  do  whatsoever  I please, 
and  shall  prosper  in  the  things  for  which  I sent  it." 

4. 

2.  And  now  having  got  as  far  as  this,  we  shall  see 


414  University  Preaching. 

without  difficulty  what  a University  Sermon  ought  to  be 
just  so  far  as  it  is  distinct  from  other  sermons  ; for,  if  all 
preaching  is  directed  towards  a hearer,  such  as  is  the 
hearer  will  be  the  preaching,  and,  as  a University  audi- 
tory differs  from  other  auditories,  so  will  a sermon 
addressed  to  it  differ  from  other  sermons.  This,  indeed, 
is  a broad  maxim  which  holy  men  lay  down  on  the 
subject  of  preaching.  Thus,  St.  Gregory  Theologus,  as 
quoted  by  the  Pope  his  namesake,  says  : The  self-same 
exhortation  is  not  suitable  for  all  hearers  ; for  all  have 
not  the  same  disposition  of  mind,  and  what  profits  these 
is  hurtful  to  those.'’  The  holy  Pope  himself  throws  the 
maxim  into  another  form,  still  more  precise : Debet 
praedicator,"  he  says,  “ perspicere,  ne  plus  praedicet, 
quam  ab  audiente  capi  possit."  And  St.  Charles  ex- 
pounds it,  referring  to  Pope  St.  Gregory : Pro  audien- 
tium  genere  locos  doctrinarum,  ex  quibus  concionem 
conficiat,  non  modo  distinctos,  sed  optim^  explicatos 
habebit.  Atque  in  hoc  quidem  multiplici  genere  con- 
cionator  videbit,  ne  quaecumque,  ut  S.  Gregorius  scit^ 
rnonet,  legerit,  aut  scientia  comprehenderit,  omnia  enun- 
ciet  atque  effundat ; sed  delectum  habebit,  ita  ut  do- 
cumenta  alia  exponat,  alia  tacit^  relinquat,  prout  locus, 
ordo,  conditioque  auditorum  deposcat.’’  And,  by  way  of 
obviating  the  chance  of  such  a rule  being  considered  a 
human  artifice  inconsistent  with  the  simplicity  of  the 
Gospel,  he  had  said  shortly  before : ‘^Ad  Dei  gloriam,  ad 
coelestis  regni  propagationem,  et  ad  animarum  salutem, 
plurimum  interest,  non  solum  quales  sint  praedicatores, 
sed  qua  via,  qua  ratione  praedicent." 

It  is  true,  this  is  also  one  of  the  elementary  principles 
of  the  Art  of  Rhetoric  ; but  it  is  no  scandal  that  a 
saintly  Bishop  should  in  this  matter  borrow  a maxim 
from  .secular,  nay,  from  pagan  schools.  For  divine  grace 


University  Preaching. 


415 


does  not  overpower  nor  supersede  the  action  of  the  human 
mind  according  to  its  proper  nature ; and  if  heathen 
writers  have  analyzed  that  nature  well,  so  far  let  them 
be  used  to  the  greater  glory  of  the  Author  and  Source 
of  all  Truth.  Aristotle,  then,  in  his  celebrated  treatise 
on  Rhetoric,  makes  the  very  essence  of  the  Art  lie  in  the 
precise  recognition  of  a hearer.  It  is  a relative  art,  and  in 
that  respect  differs  from  Logic,  which  simply  teaches  the 
right  use  of  reason,  whereas  Rhetoric  is  the  art  of  per- 
suasion, which  implies  a person  who  is  to  be  persuaded. 
As,  then,  the  Christian  Preacher  aims  at  the  Divine 
Glory,  not  in  any  vague  and  general  way,  but  definitely 
by  the  enunciation  of  some  article  or  passage  of  the 
Revealed  Word,  so  further,  he  enunciates  it,  not  for  the 
instruction  of  the  whole  world,  but  directly  for  the  sake 
of  those  very  persons  who  are  before  him.  He  is,  when 
in  the  pulpit,  instructing,  enlightening,  informing,  ad- 
vancing, sanctifying,  not  all  nations,  nor  all  classes,  nor 
all  callings,  but  those  particular  ranks,  professions,  states, 
ages,  characters,  which  have  gathered  around  him. 
Proof  indeed  is  the  same  all  over  the  earth ; but  he  has 
not  only  to  prove,  but  to  persuade  ; — Whom  ? A hearer, 
then,  is  included  in  the  very  idea  of  preaching ; and  we 
cannot  determine  how  in  detail  we  ought  to  preach,  till 
we  know  whom  we  are  to  address. 

In  all  the  most  important  respects,  indeed,  all  hearers 
are  the  same,  and  what  is  suitable  for  one  audience  is 
suitable  for  another.  All  hearers  are  children  of  Adam, 
all,  too,  are  children  of  the  Christian  adoption  and  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  great  topics  which  suit  the 
multitude,  which  attract  the  poor,  which  sway  the  un- 
learned, which  warn,  arrest,  recall,  the  wayward  and 
wandering,  are  in  place  within  the  precincts  of  a 
University  as  elsewhere.  A Studium  Generate  is  not  a 


41 6 University  Preachmg. 

cloister,  or  noviciate,  or  seminary,  or  boarding-school ; it 
IS  an  assemblage  of  the  young,  the  inexperienced,  the 
lay  and  the  secular ; and  not  even  the  simplest  of 
religious  truths,  or  the  most  elementary  article  of  the 
Christian  faith,  can  be  unseasonable  from  its  pulpit.  A 
sermon  on  the  Divine  Omnipresence,  on  the  future  judg- 
ment, on  the  satisfaction  of  Christ,  on  the  intercession  of 
saints,  will  be  not  less,  perhaps  more,  suitable  there  than 
if  it  were  addressed  to  a parish  congregation.  Let  no 
one  suppose  that  any  thing  recondite  is  essential  to  the 
idea  of  a University  sermon.  The  most  obvious  truths 
are  often  the  most  profitable.  Seldom  does  an  oppor- 
tunity occur  for  a subject  there  which  might  not  under 
circumstances  be  treated  before  any  other  auditory  what- 
ever. Nay,  further;  an  academical  auditory  might  be 
well  content  if  it  never  heard  any  subject  treated  at  all 
but  what  would  be  suitable  to  any  general  congregation. 

However,  after  all,  a University  has  a character  of  its 
own ; it  has  some  traits  of  human  nature  more  promi- 
nently developed  than  others,  and  its  members  are  brought 
together  under  circumstances  which  impartto  the  auditory 
a peculiar  colour  and  expression,  even  where  it  does  not 
substantially  differ  from  another.  It  is  composed  of 
men,  not  women  ; of  the  young  rather  than  the  old  ; and 
of  persons  either  highly  educated  or  under  education. 
These  are  the  points  which  the  preacher  will  bear  in 
mind,  and  which  will  direct  him  both  in  his  choice  of 
subject,  and  in  his  mode  of  treating  it. 

5. 

(i.)  And  first  as  to  his  matter  or  subject.  Here  I 
would  remark  upon  the  circumstance,  that  courses  of 
sermons  upon  theological  points,  polemical  discussions, 
treatises  in  extenso,  and  the  like,  are  often  included  in 


University  Preaching,  417 

the  idea  of  a University  Sermon,  and  are  considered  to 
be  legitimately  entitled  to  occupy  the  attention  of  a 
University  audience  ; the  object  of  such  compositions 
being,  not  directly  and  mainly  the  edification  of  the 
hearers,  but  the  defence  or  advantage  of  Catholicism  at 
large,  and  the  gradual  formation  of  a volume  suitable 
for  publication.  Without  absolutely  discountenancing 
such  important  works,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  more  of 
them  than  that  they  rather  belong  to  the  divinity  school, 
and  fall  under  the  idea  of  Lectures,  than  have  a claim 
to  be  viewed  as  University  Sermons.  Anyhow,  I do 
not  feel  called  upon  to  speak  of  such  discourses  here. 
And  I say  the  same  of  panegyrical  orations,  discourses 
on  special  occasions,  funeral  sermons,  and  the  like. 
Putting  such  exceptional  compositions  aside,  I will  con- 
fine myself  to  the  consideration  of  what  may  be  called 
Sermons  proper.  And  here,  I repeat,  any  general  sub- 
ject will  be  seasonable  in  the  University  pulpit  which 
would  be  seasonable  elsewhere ; but,  if  we  look  for  sub- 
jects especially  suitable,  they  will  be  of  two  kinds.  The 
temptations  which  ordinarily  assail  the  young  and  the 
intellectual  are  two : those  which  are  directed  against 
their  virtue,  and  those  which  are  directed  against  their 
faith.  All  divine  gifts  are  exposed  to  misuse  and  per- 
version ; youth  and  intellect  are  both  of  them  goods, 
and  Involve  in  them  certain  duties  respectively,  and  can 
be  used  to  the  glory  of  the  Giver;  but,  as  youth  becomes 
the  occasion  of  excess  and  sensuality,  so  does  intellect 
give  accidental  opportunity  to  religious  error,  rash  specu- 
lation, doubt,  and  infidelity.  That  these  are  in  fact  the 
peculiar  evils  to  which  large  Academical  Bodies  are 
liable  is  shown  from  the  history  of  Universities ; and  if 
a preacher  would  have  a subject  which  has  especial  sig- 
nificancy  in  such  a place,  he  must  select  one  which  bears 

27 


4i8 


JJyiiversity  Preaching. 


upon  one  or  other  of  these  two  classes  of  sin.  I mean, 
he  would  be  treating  on  some  such  subject  with  the 
same  sort  of  appositeness  as  he  would  discourse  upon 
almsgiving  when  addressing  the  rich,  or  on  patience, 
resignation,  and  industry,  when  he  was  addressing  the 
poor,  or  on  forgiveness  of  injuries  when  he  was  address- 
ing the  oppressed  or  persecuted. 

To  this  suggestion  I append  two  cautions.  First,  I 
need  hardly  say,  that  a preacher  should  be  quite  sure 
that  he  understands  the  persons  he  is  addressing  before 
he  ventures  to  aim  at  what  he  considers  to  be  their  ethical 
condition  ; for,  if  he  mistakes,  he  will  probably  be  doing 
harm  rather  than  good.  I have  known  consequences 
to  occur  very  far  from  edifying,  when  strangers  have 
fancied  they  knew  an  auditory  when  they  did  not,  and 
have  by  implication  imputed  to  them  habits  or  motives 
which  were  not  theirs.  Better  far  would  it  be  for  a 
preacher  to  select  one  of  those  more  general  subjects 
which  are  safe  than  risk  what  is  evidently  ambitious,  if 
it  is  not  successful. 

My  other  caution  is  this  : — that,  even  when  he  ad- 
dresses himself  to  some  special  danger  or  probable  defi- 
ciency or  need  of  his  hearers,  he  should  do  so  covertly, 
not  showing  on  the  surface  of  his  discourse  what  he  is 
aiming  at.  I see  no  advantage  in  a preacher  pro- 
fessing to  treat  of  infidelity,  orthodoxy,  or  virtue,  or  the 
pride  of  reason,  or  riot,  or  sensual  indulgence.  To  say 
nothing  else,  common-places  are  but  blunt  weapons  ; 
whereas  it  is  particular  topics  that  penetrate  and  reach 
their  mark.  Such  subjects  rather  are,  for  instance,  the 
improvement  of  time,  avoiding  the  occasions  of  sin, 
frequenting  the  Sacraments,  divine  warnings,  the  inspi- 
rations of  grace,  the  mysteries  of  the  Rosary,  natural 
virtue,  beauty  of  the  rites  of  the  Church,  consistency  of 


University  Preaching. 


419 


the  Catholic  faith,  relation  of  Scripture  to  the  Church,  the 
philosophy  of  tradition,  and  any  others,  which  may  touch 
the  heart  and  conscience,  or  may  Suggest  trains  of 
thought  to  the  intellect,  without  proclaiming  the  main 
reason  why  they  have  been  chosen. 

(2.)  Next,  as  to  the  mode  of  treating  its  subject,  which 
a University  discourse  requires.  It  is  this  respect,  after  all, 
I think,  in  which  it  especially  differs  from  other  kinds  of 
preaching.  As  translations  differ  from  each  other,  as 
expressing  the  same  ideas  in  different  languages,  so  in 
the  case  of  sermons,  each  may  undertake  the  same  sub- 
ject, yet  treat  it  in  its  own  way,  as  contemplating  its 
own  hearers.  This  is  well  exemplified  in  the  speeches  of 
St.  Paul,  as  recorded  in  the  book  of  Acts.  To  the  Jews  he 
quotes  the  Old  Testament;  on  the  Areopagus,  addressing 
the  philosophers  of  Athens,  he  insists, — not  indeed  upon 
any  recondite  doctrine,  contrariwise,  upon  the  most  ele- 
mentary, the  being  and  unity  of  God ; — but  he  treats  it  with 
a learning  and  depth  of  thought,  which  the  presence  of  that 
celebrated  city  naturally  suggested.  And  in  like  manner, 
while  the  most  simple  subjects  are  apposite  in  a Univer- 
sity pulpit,  they  certainly  would  there  require  a treatment 
more  exact  than  is  necessary  in  merely  popular  exhorta- 
tions. It  is  not  asking  much  to  demand  for  academical 
discourses  a more  careful  study  beforehand,  a more 
accurate  conception  of  the  idea  which  they  are  to  enforce, 
a more  cautious  use  of  words,  a more  anxious  consulta- 
tion of  writers  of  authority,  and  somewhat  more  of 
philosophical  and  theological  knowledge. 

But  here  again,  as  before,  I would  insist  on  the  neces- 
sity of  such  compositions  being  unpretending.  It  is  not 
necessary  for  a preacher  to  quote  the  Holy  Fathers,  or 
to  show  erudition,  or  to  construct  an  original  argument, 
or  to  be  ambitious  in  style  and  profuse  of  ornament,  on 


420 


University  Preaching. 


the  ground  that  the  audience  is  a University:  it  is  only 
necessary  so  to  keep  the  character  and  necessities  of  his 
hearers  before  him  as  to  avoid  what  may  offend  them, 
or  mislead,  or  disappoint,  or  fail  to  profit. 

6. 

3.  But  here  a distinct  question  opens  upon  us,  on  which 
I must  say  a few  words  in  conclusion,  viz.,  whether  or  not 
the  preacher  should  preach  without  book. 

This  is  a delicate  question  to  enter  upon,  considering 
that  the  Irish  practice  of  preaching  without  book,  which 
is  in  accordance  with  that  of  foreign  countries,  and,  as  it 
would  appear,  with  the  tradition  of  the  Church  from  the 
first,  is  not  universally  adopted  in  England,  nor,  as  I 
believe,  in  Scotland  ; and  it  might  seem  unreasonable 
or  presumptuous  to  abridge  a liberty  at  present  granted 
to  the  preacher.  I will  simply  set  down  what  occurs  to 
me  to  say  on  each  side  of  the  question. 

First  of  all,  looking  at  the  matter  on  the  side  of  usage, 
I have  always  understood  that  it  was  the  rule  in  Catholic 
countries,  as  I have  just  said,  both  in  this  and  in  former 
times,  to  preach  without  book ; and,  if  the  rule  be  really 
so,  it  carries  extreme  weight  with  it.  I do  not  speak  as 
if  I had  consulted  a library,  and  made  my  ground  sure  ; 
but  at  first  sight  it  would  appear  impossible,  even  from 
the  number  of  homilies  and  commentaries  which  are 
assigned  to  certain  Fathers,  as  to  St.  Augustine  or  to  St. 
Chrysostom,  that  they  could  have  delivered  them  from 
formally-written  compositions.  On  the  other  hand,  St- 
Leo’s  sermons  certainly  are,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word, 
compositions;  nay,  passages  of  them  are  carefully  dog- 
matic; nay, further  still,  they  have  sometimes  the  character 
of  a symbol,  and,  in  consequence,  are  found  repeated  in 
other  parts  of  his  works ; and  again,  though  I do  not 


University  Preaching. 


421 


profess  to  be  well  read  in  the  works  of  St.  Chrysostom, 
there  is  generally  in  such  portions  of  them  as  are  known 
to  those  of  us  who  are  in  Holy  Orders,  a peculiarity,  an 
identity  of  style,  which  enables  one  to  recognize  the 
author  at  a glance,  even  in  the  latin  version  of  the  Bre- 
viary, and  which  would  seem  to  be  quite  beyond  the  mere 
fidelity  of  reporters.  It  would  seem,  then,  he  must  after 
all  have  written  them  ; and  if  he  did  write  at  all,  it  is 
more  likely  that  he  wrote  with  the  stimulus  of  preaching 
before  him,  than  that  he  had  time  and  inducement  to 
correct  and  enlarge  them  afterwards  from  notes,  for  what 
is  now  called  '‘publication,”  which  at  that  time  could 
hardly  be  said  to  exist  at  all.  To  this  consideration  we 
must  add  the  remarkable  fact  (which,  though  in  classical 
history,  throws  light  upon  our  inquiry)  that,  not  to  pro- 
duce other  instances,  the  greater  part  of  Cicero’s  power- 
ful and  brilliant  orations  against  Verres  were  never 
delivered  at  all.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  Cicero 
specifies  memory  in  his  enumeration  of  the  distinct  talents 
necessary  for  a great  orator.  And  then  we  have  in  corro- 
boration the  French  practice  of  writing  sermons  and 
learning  them  by  heart. 

These  remarks,  as  far  as  they  go,  lead  us  to  lay  great 
stress  on  the  preparation  of  a sermon,  as  amounting  in 
fact  to  composition,  even  in  writing,  and  in  extejiso.  Now 
consider  St.  Carlo’s  direction,  as  quoted  above : “ Id 
omnino  studebit,  ut  quod  in  concione  dicturus  est,  antea 
bene  cognitum  habeat.”  Now  a parish  priest  has  neither 
time  nor  occasion  for  any  but  elementary  and  ordinary 
topics ; and  any  such  subject  he  has  habitually  made 
his  own,  "cognitum  habet,”  already;  but  when  the 
matter  is  of  a more  select  and  occasional  character,  as 
in  the  case  of  a University  Sermon,  then  the  preacher 
has  to  study  it  well  and  thoroughly,  and  master  it  before- 


422 


University  Preaching. 


hand.  Study  and  meditation  being  imperative,  can  it 
be  denied  that  one  of  the  most  effectual  means  by  which 
we  are  able  to  ascertain  our  understanding  of  a subject, 
to  bring  out  our  thoughts  upon  it,  to  clear  our  meaning, 
to  enlarge  our  views  of  its  relations  to  other  subjects, 
and  to  develop  it  generally,  is  to  write  down  carefully 
all  we  have  to  say  about  it } People  indeed  differ  in 
matters  of  this  kind,  but  I think  that  writing  is  a stimu- 
lus to  the  mental  faculties,  to  the  logical  talent,  to 
originality,  to  the  power  of  illustration,  to  the  arrange- 
ment of  topics,  second  to  none.  Till  a man  begins  to 
put  down  his  thoughts  about  a subject  on  paper  he  will 
not  ascertain  what  he  knows  and  what  he  does  not 
know ; and  still  less  will  he  be  able  to  express  what  he 
does  know.  Such  a formal  preparation  of  course  cannot 
be  required  of  a parish  priest,  burdened,  as  he  may  be, 
with  other  duties,  and  preaching  on  elementary  subjects, 
and  supported  by  the  systematic  order  and  the  sugges- 
tions of  the  Catechism  ; but  in  occasional  sermons  the 
case  is  otherwise.  In  these  it  is  both  possible  and  gene- 
rally necessary ; and  the  fuller  the  sketch,  and  the  more 
clear  and  continuous  the  thread  of  the  discourse,  the  more 
the  preacher  will  find  himself  at  home  when  the  time  of 
delivery  arrives.  I have  said  generally  necessary,’'  for 
of  course  there  will  be  exceptional  cases,  in  which  such 
a mode  of  preparation  does  not  answer,  whether  from 
some  mistake  in  carrying  it  out,  or  from  some  special 
gift  superseding  it. 

To  many  preachers  there  will  be  another  advantage 
besides ; — such  a practice  will  secure  them  against  ven- 
turing upon  really  extempore  matter.  The  more  ardent 
a man  is,  and  the  greater  power  he  has  of  affecting  his 
hearers,  so  much  the  more  will  he  need  self-control  and 
sustained  recollection,  and  feel  the  advantage  of  com- 


University  Preaching. 


423 


mitting  himself,  as  it  were,  to  the  custody  of  his  previous 
intentions,  instead  of  yielding  to  any  chance  current  of 
thought  which  rushes  upon  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
preaching.  His  very  gifts  may  need  the  counterpoise 
of  more  ordinary  and  homely  accessories,  such  as  the 
drudgery  of  composition. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  too,  that,  since  a University 
Sermon  will  commonly  have  more  pains  than  ordinary 
bestowed  on  it,  it  will  be  considered  in  the  number  of 
those  which  the  author  would  especially  wish  to  preserve. 
Some  record  of  it  then  will  be  natural,  or  even  is  involved 
in  its  composition  ; and,  while  the  least  elaborate  will  be 
as  much  as  a sketch  or  abstract,  even  the  most  minute, 
exact,  and  copious  assemblage  of  notes  will  not  be  found 
too  long  hereafter,  supposing,  as  time  goes  on,  any  reason 
occurs  for  wishing  to  commit  it  to  the  press. 

Here  are  various  reasons,  which  are  likely  to  lead,  or 
to  oblige,  a preacher  to  have  recourse  to  his  pen  in  pre- 
paration for  his  special  office.  A further  reason  might 
be  suggested,  which  would  be  more  intimate  than  any 
we  have  given,  going  indeed  so  far  as  to  justify  the  in- 
troduction of  a manuscript  into  the  pulpit  itself,  if  the 
case  supposed  fell  for  certain  under  the  idea  of  a Uni- 
versity Sermon.  It  may  be  urged  with  great  cogency 
that  a process  of  argument,  or  a logical  analysis  and  in- 
vestigation, cannot  at  all  be  conducted  with  suitable 
accuracy  of  wording,  completeness  of  statement,  or  suc- 
cession of  ideas,  if  the  composition  is  to  be  prompted  at 
the  moment,  and  breathed  out,  as  it  were,  from  the 
intellect  together  with  the  very  words  which  are  its 
vehicle.  There  are  indeed  a few  persons  in  a generation, 
such  as  Pitt,  who  are  able  to  converse  like  a book,  and 
to  speak  a pamphlet;  but  others  must  be  content  to  write 
and  to  read  their  writing.  This  is  true  ; but  I have 


424 


University  Preaching. 


already  found  reason  to  question  whether  such  delicate 
and  complicated  organizations  of  thought  have  a right 
to  the  name  of  Sermons  at  all.  In  truth,  a discourse, 
which,  from  its  fineness  and  precision  of  ideas,  is  too 
difficult  for  a preacher  to  deliver  without  such  extraneous 
assistance,  is  too  difficult  for  a hearer  to  follow  ; and,  if 
a book  be  imperative  for  teaching,  it  is  imperative  for 
learning.  Both  parties  ought  to  read,  if  they  are  to  be 
on  equal  terms ; — and  this  remark  furnishes  me  with  a 
principle  which  has  an  application  wider  than  the  par- 
ticular case  which  has  suggested  it. 

While,  then,  a preacher  will  find  it  becoming  and  advis- 
able to  put  into  writing  any  important  discourse  before- 
hand, he  will  find  it  equally  a point  of  propriety  and 
expedience  not  to  read  it  in  the  pulpit.  I am  not  of 
course  denying  his  right  to  use  a manuscript,  if  he  wishes  ; 
but  he  will  do  well  to  conceal  it,  as  far  as  he  can,  unless, 
which  is  the  most  effectual  concealment,  whatever  be  its 
counterbalancing  disadvantages,  he  prefers,  mainly  not 
verbally,  to  get  it  by  heart.  To  conceal  it,  indeed,  in  one 
way  or  other,  will  be  his  natural  impulse  ; and  this  very 
circumstance  seems  to  show  us  that  to  read  a sermon  needs 
an  apology.  For,  why  should  he  commit  it  to  memory,  or 
conceal  his  use  of  it,  unless  he  felt  that  it  was  more  natural, 
more  decorous,  to  do  without  it.^^  And  so  again,  if  he  em- 
ploys a manuscript,  the  more  he  appears  to  dispense  with 
it,  the  more  he  looks  off  from  it,  and  directly  addresses  his 
audience,  the  more  will  he  be  considered  to  preach ; and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  more  will  he  be  judged  to  come 
short  of  preaching  the  more  sedulous  he  is  in  following 
his  manuscript  line  after  line,  and  by  the  tone  of  his 
voice  makes  it  clear  that  he  has  got  it  safely  before  him. 
What  is  this  but  a popular  testimony  to  the  fact  that 
preaching  is  not  reading,  and  reading  is  not  preaching } 


University  Preaching. 


425 


There  is,  as  I have  said,  a principle  involved  in  this 
decision.  It  is  a common  answer  made  by  the  Protestant 
poor  to  their  clergy  or  other  superiors,  when  asked  why 
they  do  not  go  to  church,  that  ‘"they  can  read  their  book 
at  home  quite  as  well.”  It  is  quite  true,  they  can  read 
their  book  at  home,  and  it  is  difficult  what  to  rejoin,  and 
it  is  a problem,  which  has  employed  before  now  the  more 
thoughtful  of  their  communion,  to  make  out  what  is  got 
by  going  to  public  service.  The  prayers  are  from  a 
printed  book,  the  sermon  is  from  a manuscript.  The 
printed  prayers  they  have  already  ; and,  as  to  the  manu- 
script sermon,  why  should  it  be  in  any  respects  better 
than  the  volume  of  sermons  which  they  have  at  home  ? 
Why  should  not  an  approved  author  be  as  good  as  one 
who  has  not  yet  submitted  himself  to  criticism  ? And 
again,  if  it  is  to  be  read  in  the  church,  why  may  not  one 
person  read  it  quite  as  well  as  another  i Good  advice  is 
good  advice,  all  the  world  over.  There  is  something 
more,  then,  than  composition  in  a sermon ; there  is 
something  personal  in'  preaching ; people  are  drawn  and 
moved,  not  simply  by  what  is  said,  but  by  how  it  is  said, 
and  who  says  it.  The  same  things  said  by  one  man  are  not 
the  same  as  when  said  by  another.  The  same  things  when 
read  are  not  the  same  as  when  they  are  preached. 

7- 

In  this  respect  the  preacher  differs  from  the  minister 
of  the  sacraments,  that  he  comes  to  his  hearers,  in  some 
sense  or  other,  with  antecedents.  Clad  in  his  sacerdotal 
vestments,  he  sinks  what  is  individual  in  himself  alto- 
gether, and  is  but  the  representative  of  Him  from  whom 
he  derives  his  commission.  His  words,  his  tones,  his 
actions,  his  presence,  lose  their  personality ; one  bishop, 
one  priest,  is  like  another  ; they  all  chant  the  same  notes, 


426 


Ufiiversity  Preaching 


and  observe  the  same  genuflexions,  as  they  give  one 
peace  and  one  blessing,  as  they  offer  one  and  the 
same  sacrifice.  The  Mass  must  not  be  said  without  a 
Missal  under  the  priest’s  eye  ; nor  in  any  language  but 
that  in  which  it  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  early 
hierarchs  of  the  Western  Church.  But,  when  it  is  over, 
and  the  celebrant  has  resigned  the  vestments  proper  to 
it,  then  he  resumes  himself,  and  comes  to  us  in  the  gifts 
and  associations  which  attach  to  his  person.  He  knows 
his  sheep,  and  they  know  him  ; and  it  is  this  direct  bear- 
ing of  the  teacher  on  the  taught,  of  his  mind  upon  their 
minds,  and  the  mutual  sympathy  which  exists  between 
them,  which  is  his  strength  and  influence  when  he  ad- 
dresses them.  They  hang  upon  his  lips  as  they  cannot 
hang  upon  the  pages  of  his  book.  Definiteness  is  the 
life  of  preaching.  A definite  hearer,  not  the  whole 
world  ; a definite  topic,  not  the  whole  evangelical  tradi- 
tion ; and,  in  like  manner,  a definite  speaker.  Nothing 
that  is  anonymous  will  preach  ; nothing  that  is  dead  and 
gone  ; nothing  even  which  is  of  yesterday,  however 
religious  in  itself  and  useful.  Thought  and  word  are 
one  in  the  Eternal  Logos,  and  must  not  be  separate  in 
those  who  are  His  shadows  on  earth.  They  must  issue 
fresh  and  fresh,  as  from  the  preacher’s  mouth,  so  from 
his  breast,  if  they  are  to  be  spirit  and  life”  to  the  hearts 
of  his  hearers.  And  what  is  true  of  a parish  priest  ap- 
plies, m7itatis  imitatidis,  to  a University  preacher  ; who, 
even  more,  perhaps,  than  the  ordinary  parochus,  comes  to 
his  audience  with  a name  and  a history,  and  excites  a 
personal  interest,  and  persuades  by  what  he  is,  as  well  as 
by  what  he  delivers. 

I am  far  from  forgetting  that  every  one  has  his  own 
talent,  and  that  one  has  not  what  another  has.  Elo- 
quence is  a divine  gift,  which  to  a certain  point  super- 


U n iversity  Preaching.  427 

sedes  rules,  and  is  to  be  used,  like  other  gifts,  to  the  glory 
of  the  Giver,  and  then  only  to  be  discountenanced  when 
it  forgets  its  place,  when  it  throws  into  the  shade  and  em- 
barrasses the  essential  functions  of  the  Christian  preacher, 
and  claims  to  be  cultivated  for  its  own  sake  instead  of 
being  made  subordinate  and  subservient  to  a higher  work 
and  to  sacred  objects.  And  how  to  make  eloquence  sub- 
servient to  the  evangelical  office  is  not  more  difficult 
than  how  to  use  learning  or  intellect  for  a supernatural 
end ; but  it  does  not  come  into  consideration  here. 

In  the  case  of  particular  preachers,  circumstances  may 
constantly  arise  which  render  the  use  of  a manuscript  the 
more  advisable  course  ; but  I have  been  considering 
how  the  case  stands  in  itself,  and  attempting  to  set  down 
what  is  to  be  aimed  at  as  best.  If  religious  men  once 
ascertain  what  is  abstractedly  desirable,  and  acquiesce 
in  it  with  their  hearts,  they  will  be  in  the  way  to  get  over 
many  difficulties  which  otherwise  will  be  insurmountable. 
For  myself,  I think  it  no  extravagance  to  say  that  a 
very  inferior  sermon,  delivered  without  book,  answers 
the  purposes  for  which  all  sermons  are  delivered  more 
perfectly  than  one  of  great  merit,  if  it  be  written  and 
read.  Of  course,  all  men  will  not  speak  without  book 
equally  well,  just  as  their  voices  are  not  equally  clear 
and  loud,  or  their  manner  equally  impressive.  Elo- 
quence, I repeat,  is  a gift ; but  most  men,  unless  they 
have  passed  the  age  for  leari'yng,  may  with  practice 
attain  such  fluency  in  expressing  their  thoughts  as  will 
enable  them  to  convey  and  manifest  to  their  audience 
that  earnestness  and  devotion  to  their  object,  which  is  the 
life  of  preaching, — which  both  covers,  in  the  preacher’s 
own  consciousness,  the  sense  of  his  own  deficiencies,  and 
makes  up  for  them  over  and  over  again  in  the  judgment 
of  his  hearers. 


428 


VII. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE. 

A LECTURE  IN  THE  SCHOOL  OF  MEDICINE. 

I. 

OW  that  we  have  just  commenced  our  second 


1 M Academical  Year,  it  is  natural,  Gentlemen,  that, 
as  in  November  last,  when  we  were  entering  upon  our 
great  undertaking,  I offered  to  you  some  remarks  sug- 
gested by  the  occasion,  so  now  again  I should  not  suffer 
the  first  weeks  of  the  Session  to  pass  away  without 
addressing  to  you  a few  words  on  one  of  those  subjects 
which  are  at  the  moment  especially  interesting  to  us. 
And  when  I apply  myself  to  think  what  topic  I shall  in 
consequence  submit  to  your  consideration,  I seem  to  be 
directed  what  to  select  by  the  principle  of  selection  which 
I followed  on  that  former  occasion  to  which  I have 
been  referring.  Then  * we  were  opening  the  Schools  of 
Philosophy  and  Letters,  as  now  we  are  opening  those 
of  Medicine  ; and,  as  I then  attempted  some  brief  in- 
vestigation of  the  mutual  bearings  of  Revelation  and 
Literature,  so  at  the  present  time  I shall  not,  I trust,  be 
unprofitably  engaging  your  attention,  if  I make  one  or 
two  parallel  reflections  on  the  relations  existing  between 
Revelation  and  Physical  Science. 

This  subject,  indeed,  viewed  in  its  just  dimensions,  is 
far  too  large  for  an  occasion  such  as  this  ; still  I may  be 


* Vid.  Article  L 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science,  429 

able  to  select  some  one  point  out  of  the  many  which  it 
offers  for  discussion,  and,  while  elucidating  it,  to  throw 
light  even  on  others  which  at  the  moment  I do  not 
formally  undertake.  I propose,  then,  to  discuss  the  an- 
tagonism which  is  popularly  supposed  to  exist  between 
Physics  and  Theology ; and  to  show,  first,  that  such 
antagonism  does  not  really  exist,  and,  next,  to  account 
for  the  circumstance  that  so  groundless  an  imagination 
should  have  got  abroad. 

I think  I am  not  mistaken  in  the  fact  that  there  exists, 
both  in  the  educated  and  half-educated  portions  of  the 
community,  something  of  a surmise  or  misgiving,  that 
there  really  is  at  bottom  a certain  contrariety  between 
the  declarations  of  religion  and  the  results  of  physical 
inquiry  ; a suspicion  such,  that,  while  it  encourages  those 
persons  who  are  not  over-religious  to  anticipate  a coming 
day,  when  at  length  the  difference  will  break  out  into 
open  conflict,  to  the  disadvantage  of  Revelation,  it  leads 
religious  minds,  on  the  other  hand,  who  have  not  had 
the  opportunity  of  considering  accurately  the  state  of  the 
case,  to  be  jealous  of  the  researches,  and  prejudiced 
against  the  discoveries,  of  Science.  The  consequence  is, 
on  the  one  side,  a certain  contempt  of  Theology;  on  the 
other,  a disposition  to  undervalue,  to  deny,  to  ridicule, 
to  discourage,  and  almost  to  denounce,  the  labours  of  the 
physiological,  astronomical,  or  geological  investigator. 

I do  not  suppose  that  any  of  those  gentlemen  who  are 
now  honouring  me  with  their  presence  are  exposed  to 
the  temptation  either  of  the  religious  or  of  the  scientific 
prejudice  ; but  that  is  no  reason  why  some  notice  of  it 
may  not  have  its  use  even  in  this  place.  It  may  lead  us 
to  consider  the  subject  itself  more  carefully  and  exactly; 
it  may  assist  us  in  attaining  clearer  ideas  than  before 
how  Physics  and  Theology  stand  relatively  to  each  other. 


430 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 


2. 

Let  us  begin  with  a first  approximation  to  the  real 
state  of  the  case,  or  a broad  view,  which,  though  it  may 
require  corrections,  will  serve  at  once  to  illustrate  and  to 
start  the  subject  We  may  divide  knowledge,  then,  into 
natural  and  supernatural.  Some  knowledge,  of  course, 
is  both  at  once  ; for  the  moment  let  us  put  this  circum- 
stance aside,  and  view  these  two  fields  of  knowledge  in 
themselves,  and  as  distinct  from  each  other  in  idea.  By 
nature  is  meant,  I suppose,  that  vast  system  of  things, 
taken  as  a whole,  of  which  we  are  cognizant  by  means  of 
our  natural  powers.  By  the  supernatural  world  is  meant 
that  still  more  marvellous  and  awful  universe,  of  which 
the  Creator  Himself  is  the  fulness,  and  which  becomes 
known  to  us,  not  through  our  natural  faculties,  but  by 
superadded  and  direct  communication  from  Him.  These 
tw’O  great  circles  of  knowledge,  as  I have  said,  intersect ; 
first,  as  far  as  supernatural  knowledge  includes  truths 
and  facts  of  the  natural  world,  and  secondly,  as  far  as 
truths  and  facts  of  the  natural  world  are  on  the  other 
hand  data  for  inferences  about  the  supernatural.  Still, 
allowing  this  interference  to  the  full,  it  will  be  found, 
on  the  whole,  that  the  two  worlds  and  the  two  kinds 
of  knowledge  respectively  are  separated  ofif  from  each 
other ; and  that,  therefore,  as  being  separate,  they  can- 
not on  the  whole  contradict  each  other.  That  is,  in 
other  words,  a person  who  has  the  fullest  knowledge  of 
one  of  these  worlds,  may  be  nevertheless,  on  the  whole, 
as  ignorant  as  the  rest  of  mankind,  as  unequal  to  form  a 
judgment,  of  the  facts  and  truths  of  the  other.  He  who 
knows  all  that  can  possibly  be  known  about  physics, 
about  politics,  about  geography,  ethnology,  and  ethics, 
will  have  made  no  approximation  whatever  to  decide 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science.  43 1 

the  question  whether  or  not  there  are  angels,  and  how 
many  are  their  orders  ; and  on  the  other  hand,  the  most 
learned  of  dogmatic  and  mystical  divines, — St.  Augustine, 
St.  Thomas, — will  not  on  that  score  know  more  than  a 
peasant  about  the  laws  of  motion,  or  the  wealth  of  nations. 
I do  not  mean  that  there  may  not  be  speculations  and 
guesses  on  this  side  and  that,  but  I speak  of  any  conclu- 
sion which  merits  to  be  called,  I will  not  say  knowledge, 
but  even  opinion.  If,  then.  Theology  be  the  philosophy 
of  the  supernatural  world,  and  Science  the  philosophy  of 
the  natural.  Theology  and  Science,  whether  in  their  re- 
spective ideas,  or  again  in  their  own  actual  fields,  on  the 
whole,  are  incommunicable,  incapable  of  collision,  and 
needing,  at  most  to  be  connected,  never  to  be  reconciled. 

Now  this  broad  general  view  of  our  subject  is  found  to 
be  so  far  true  in  fact,  in  spite  of  such  deductions  from 
it  that  have  to  be  made  in  detail,  that  the  recent  French 
editors  of  one  of  the  works  of  St.  Thomas  are  able  to 
give  it  as  one  of  their  reasons  why  that  great  theologian 
made  an  alliance,  not  with  Plato,  but  with  Aristotle, 
because  Aristotle  (they  say),  unlike  Plato,  confined  him- 
self to  human  science,  and  therefore  was  secured  from 
coming  into  collision  with  divine. 

‘‘Not  without  reason,”  they  say,  “did  St.  Thomas 
acknowledge  Aristotle  as  if  the  Master  of  human  philo- 
sophy ; for,  inasmuch  as  Aristotle  was  not  a Theologian, 
he  had  only  treated  of  logical,  physical,  psychological, 
and  metaphysical  theses,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  which 
are  concerned  about  the  supernatural  relations  of  man  to 
God,  that  is,  religion ; which,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
been  the  source  of  the  worst  errors  of  other  philosophers, 
and  especially  of  Plato.*’ 


432  ChrisHamty  and  Physical  Science. 


3- 

But  if  there  be  so  substantial  a truth  even  in  this 
very  broad  statement  concerning  the  independence  of  the 
fields  of  Theology  and  general  Science  severally,  and  the 
consequent  impossibility  of  collision  between  them,  how 
much  more  true  is  that  statement,  from  the  very  nature 
of  the  case,  when  we  contrast  Theology,  not  with  Science 
generally,  but  definitely  with  Physics ! In  Physics  is 
comprised  that  family  of  sciences  which  is  concerned 
with  the  sensible  world,  with  the  phenomena  which  we 
see,  hear,  and  handle,  or,  in  other  words,  with  matter.  It 
is  the  philosophy  of  matter.  Its  basis  of  operations 
what  it  starts  from,  what  it  falls  back  upon,  is  the  phe- 
nomena which  meet  the  senses.  Those  phenomena  it 
ascertains,  catalogues,  compares,  combines,  arranges,  and 
then  uses  for  determining  something  beyond  themselves, 
viz.,  the  order  to  which  they  are  subservient,  or  what  we 
commonly  call  the  laws  of  nature.  It  never  travels  be- 
yond the  examination  of  cause  and  effect.  Its  object  is 
to  resolve  the  complexity  of  phenomena  into  simple  ele- 
ments and  principles ; but  when  it  has  reached  those  first 
elements,  principles,  and  laws,  its  mission  is  at  an  end ; 
it  keeps  within  that  material  system  with  which  it  began, 
and  never  ventures  beyond  the  ^‘flammantia  mcenia 
mundi.”  It  may,  indeed,  if  it  chooses,  feel  a douj^t  of 
the  completeness  of  its  analysis  hitherto,  and  for  that 
reason  endeavour  to  arrive  at  more  simple  laws  and  fewei 
principles.  It  may  be  dissatisfied  with  its  own  combina- 
tions, hypotheses,  systems;  and  leave  Ptolemy  for  Newton, 
the  alchemists  for  Lavoisier  and  Davy  ; — that  is,  it  may 
decide  that  it  has  not  yet  touched  the  bottom  of  its  own 
subject ; but  still  its  aim  will  be  to  get  to  the  bottom, 
and  nothing  more.  With  matter  it  began,  with  matter  it 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 


433 


will  end  ; it  will  never  trespass  into  the  province  of  mind. 
The  Hindoo  notion  is  said  to  be  that  the  earth  stands 
upon  a tortoise ; but  the  physicist,  as  such,  will  never 
ask  himself  by  what  influence,  external  to  the  universe, 
the  universe  is  sustained;  simply  because  he  is  a physicist. 

If  indeed  he  be  a religious  man,  he  will  of  course  have 
a very  definite  view  of  the  subject ; but  that  view  of  his 
is  private,  not  professional, — the  view,  not  of  a physicist, 
but  of  a religious  man ; and  this,  not  because  physical 
science  says  any  thing  different,  but  simply  because  it 
says  nothing  at  all  on  the  subject,  nor  can  do  so  by  the 
very  undertaking  with  which  it  set  out.  The  question 
is  simply  ex^ra  artem.  The  physical  philosopher  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  final  causes,  and  will  get 
into  inextricable  confusion,  if  he  introduces  them  into  his 
investigations.  He  has  to  look  in  one  definite  direction, 
not  in  any  other.  It  is  said  that  in  some  countries,  when 
a stranger  asks  his  way,  he  is  at  once  questioned  in  turn 
what  place  he  came  from : something  like  this  would  be 
the  unseasonableness  of  a physicist,  who  inquired  how  the 
phenomena  and  laws  of  the  material  world  primarily 
came  to  be,  when  his  simple  task  is  that  of  ascertaining 
what  they  are.  Within  the  limits  of  those  phenomena 
he  may  speculate  and  prove  ; he  may  trace  the  operation 
of  the  laws  of  matter  through  periods  of  time  ; he  may 
penetrate  into  the  past,  and  anticipate  the  future  ; he 
may  recount  the  changes  which  they  have  effected  upon 
matter,  and  the  rise,  growth,  and  decay  of  phenomena ; 
and  so  in  a certain  sense  he  may  write  the  history  of 
the  material  world,  as  far  as  he  can ; still  he  will  always 
advance  from  phenomena,  and  conclude  upon  the  internal 
evidence  which  they  supply.  He  will  not  come  near  the 
questions,  what  that  ultimate  element  is,  which  we  call 
matter,  how  it  came  to  be,  whether  it  can  cease  to  be, 

28 


434  Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 

whether  it  ever  was  not,  whether  it  will  ever  come  to 
nought,  in  what  its  laws  really  consist,  whether  they  can 
cease  to  be,  whether  they  can  be  suspended,  what  causa- 
tion is,  what  time  is,  what  the  relations  of  time  to  cause 
and  effect,  and  a hundred  other  questions  of  a similar 
character. 

Such  is  Physical  Science,  and  Theology,  as  is  obvious, 
is  just  what  such  Science  is  not.  Theology  begins,  as  its 
name  denotes,  not  with  any  sensible  facts,  phenomena, 
or  results,  not  with  nature  at  all,  but  with  the  Author  of 
nature, — with  the  one  invisible,  unapproachable  Cause 
and  Source  of  all  things.  It  begins  at  the  other  end  of 
knowledge,  and  is  occupied,  not  with  the  finite,  but  the 
Infinite.  It  unfolds  and  systematizes  what  He  Himself 
has  told  us  of  Himself ; of  His  nature.  His  attributes. 
His  will,  and  His  acts.  As  far  as  it  approaches  towards 
Physics,  it  takes  just  the  counterpart  of  the  questions 
which  occupy  the  Physical  Philosopher.  He  contem- 
plates facts  before  him ; the  Theologian  gives  the  reasons 
of  those  facts.  The  Physicist  treats  of  efficient  causes ; 
the  Theologian  of  final.  The  Physicist  tells  us  of  laws  ; 
the  Theologian  of  the  Author,  Maintainer,  and  Controller 
of  them  ; of  their  scope,  of  their  suspension,  if  so  be ; of 
their  beginning  and  their  end.  This  is  how  the  two 
schools  stand  related  to  each  other,  at  that  point  where 
they  approach  the  nearest ; but  for  the  most  part  they 
are  absolutely  divergent.  What  Physical  Science  is  en- 
gaged in  I have  already  said  ; as  to  Theology,  it  con- 
templates the  world,  not  of  matter,  but  of  mind  ; the 
Supreme  Intelligence;  souls  and  their  destiny;  conscience 
and  duty  ; the  past,  present,  and  future  dealings  of  the 
Creator  with  the  creature. 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 


435 


4. 

So  far,  then,  as  these  remarks  have  gone.  Theology  and 
Physics  cannot  touch  each  other, have  no  intercommunion, 
have  no  ground  of  difference  or  agreement,  of  jealousy  or 
of  sympathy.  As  well  may  musical  truths  be  said  to 
interfere  with  the  doctrines  of  architectural  science  ; as 
well  may  there  be  a collision  between  the  mechanist  and 
the  geologist,  the  engineer  and  the  grammarian  ; as  well 
might  the  British  Parliament  or  the  French  nation  be 
jealous  of  some  possible  belligerent  power  upon  the  sur- 
face of  the  moon,  as  Physics  pick  a quarrel  with  Theology. 
And  it  may  be  well, — before  I proceed  to  fill  up  in  detail 
this  outline,  and  to  explain  what  has  to  be  explained  in 
this  statement, — to  corroborate  it,  as  it  stands,  by  the 
remarkable  words  upon  the  subject  of  a writer  of  the 
day  — 

“ We  often  hear  it  said,'’  he  observes,  writing  as  a Pro- 
testant (and  here  let  me  assure  you.  Gentlemen,  that 
though  his  words  have  a controversial  tone  with  them,  I 
do  not  quote  them  in  that  aspect,  or  as  wishing  here  to 
urge  any  thing  against  Protestants,  but  merely  in  pur- 
suance of  my  own  point,  that  Revelation  and  Physical 
Science  cannot  really  come  into  collision),  ''we  often  hear 
it  said  that  the  world  is  constantly  becoming  more  and 
more  enlightened,  and  that  this  enlightenment  must  be 
favourable  to  Protestantism,  and  unfavourable  to  Catho- 
licism. We  wish  that  we  could  think  so.  But  we  see 
great  reason  to  doubt  whether  this  is  a well-founded  ex- 
pectation. We  see  that  during  the  last  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  the  human  mind  has  been  in  the  highest  degree 
active  ; that  it  has  made  great  advances  in  every  branch 
of  natural  philosophy  ; that  it  has  produced  innumerable 

* Macaulay’s  Essays. 


436  Christia7iity  and  Physical  Science. 

inventions  tending  to  promote  the  convenience  of  life  ; 
that  medicine,  surgery,  chemistry,  engineering,  have  been 
very  greatly  improved,  that  government,  police,  and  law 
have  been  improved,  though  not  to  so  great  an  extent  as 
the  physical  sciences.  Yet  we  see  that,  during  these  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  Protestantism  has  made  no  con- 
quests worth  speaking  of.  Nay,  we  believe  that,  as  far 
as  there  has  been  change,  that  change  has,  on  the  whole, 
been  in  favour  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  We  cannot, 
therefore,  feel  confident  that  the  progress  of  knowledge 
will  necessarily  be  fatal  to  a system  which  has,  to  say  the 
least,  stood  its  ground  in  spite  of  the  immense  progress 
made  by  the  human  race  in  knowledge  since  the  days  of 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

Indeed,  the  argument  which  we  are  considering 
seems  to  us  to  be  founded  on  an  entire  mistake.  There 
are  branches  of  knowledge  with  respect  to  which  the  law 
of  the  human  mind  is  progress.  In  mathematics,  when 
once  a proposition  has  been  demonstrated,  it  is  never 
afterwards  contested.  Every  fresh  story  is  as  solid  a 
basis  for  a new  superstructure  as  the  original  foundation 
was.  Here,  therefore,  there  is  a constant  addition  to 
the  stock  of  truth.  In  the  inductive  sciences,  again,  the 
law  is  progress.  . . 

But  with  theology  the  case  is  very  different.  As 
respects  natural  religion  (Revelation  being  for  the  pre- 
sent altogether  left  out  of  the  question),  it  is  not  easy  to 
see  that  a philosopher  of  the  present  day  is  more  favour- 
ably situated  than  Thales  or  Simonides.  He  has  before 
him  just  the  same  evidences  of  design  in  the  structure  of 
the  universe  which  the  early  Greeks  had.  . . As  to  the 
other  great  question,  the  question  what  becomes  of  man 
after  death,  we  do  not  see  that  a highly  educated  Euro- 
pean, left  to  his  unassisted  reason,  is  more  likely  to  be 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science.  437 

in  the  right  than  a Blackfoot  Indian.  Not  a single  one 
of  the  many  sciences,  in  which  we  surpass  the  Blackfoot 
Indians,  throws  the  smallest  light  on  the  state  of  the  soul 
after  the  animal  life  is  extinct  . . 

‘‘  Natural  Theology,  then,  is  not  a progressive  science. 
That  knowledge  of  our  origin  and  of  our  destiny  which 
we  derive  from  Revelation  is  indeed  of  very  different 
clearness,  and  of  very  different  importance.  But  neither 
is  Revealed  Religion  of  the  nature  of  a progressive 
science.  . . In  divinity  there  cannot  be  a progress  ana- 
logous to  that  which  is  constantly  taking  place  in  phar- 
macy, geology,  and  navigation.  A Christian  of  the  fifth 
century  with  a Bible  is  neither  better  nor  worse  situated 
than  a Christian  of  the  nineteenth  century  with  a Bible, 
candour  and  natural  acuteness  being  of  course  supposed 
equal.  It  matters  not  at  all  that  the  compass,  printing, 
gunpowder,  steam,  gas,  vaccination,  and  a thousand  other 
discoveries  and  inventions,  which  were  unknown  in  the 
fifth  century,  are  familiar  to  the  nineteenth.  None  of 
these  discoveries  and  inventions  has  the  smallest  bear- 
ing on  the  question  whether  man  is  justified  by  faith 
alone,  or  whether  the  invocation  of  saints  is  an  orthodox 
practice.  . . We  are  confident  that  the  world  will  never 
go  back  to  the  solar  system  of  Ptolemy ; nor  is  our  con- 
fidence in  the  least  shaken  by  the  circumstance  that  so 
great  a man  as  Bacon  rejected  the  theory  of  Galileo 
with  scorn  ; for  Bacon  had  not  all  the  means  of  arriving 
at  a sound  conclusion.  . . But  when  we  reflect  that  Sir 
Thomas  More  was  ready  to  die  for  the  doctrine  of 
Transubstantiation,  we  cannot  but  feel  some  doubt 
whether  the  doctrine  of  Transubstantiation  may  not 
triumph  over  all  opposition.  More  was  a man  of  emi- 
nent talents.  He  had  all  the  information  on  the  sub- 
ject that  we  have,  or  that^  while  the  world  lasts y any 


/ 


438  Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 

human  being  will  have.  . . No  progress  that  science  has 
made^  or  will  make,  can  add  to  what  seems  to  us  the 
overwhelming  force  of  the  argument  against  the  Real 
Presence.  We  are  therefore  unable  to  understand  why 
what  Sir  Thomas  More  believed  respecting  Transubstan- 
tiation  may  not  be  believed  to  the  end  of  time  by  men 
equal  in  abilities  and  honesty  to  Sir  Thomas  More.  But 
Sir  Thomas  More  is  one  of  the  choice  specimens  of 
human  wisdom  and  virtue  ; and  the  doctrine  of  Tran- 
substantiation  is  a kind  of  proof  charge.  The  faith 
which  stands  that  test  will  stand  any  test.  . . 

''  The  history  of  Catholicism  strikingly  illustrates  these 
observations.  During  the  last  seven  centuries  the  public 
mind  of  Europe  has  made  constant  progress  in  every 
department  of  secular  knowledge ; but  in  religion  we 
can  trace  no  constant  progress.  . . Four  times  since 
the  authority  of  the  Church  of  Rome  was  established  in 
Western  Christendom  has  the  human  intellect  risen  up 
against  her  yoke.  Twice  that  Church  remained  com- 
pletely victorious.  Twice  she  came  forth  from  the  con- 
flict bearing  the  marks  of  cruel  wounds,  but  with  the 
principle  of  life  still  strong  within  her.  When  we  reflect 
on  the  tremendous  assaults  she  has  survived,  we  find  it 
difficult  to  conceive  in  what  way  she  is  to  perish.” 

You  see,  Gentlemen,  if  you  trust  the  judgment  of  a 
sagacious  mind,  deeply  read  in  history.  Catholic  Theo- 
logy has  nothing  to  fear  from  the  progress  of  Physical 
Science,  even  independently  of  the  divinity  of  its  doc- 
trines. It  speaks  of  things  supernatural ; and  these,  by 
the  very  force  of  the  words,  research  into  nature  cannot 
touch. 


5. 

It  is  true  that  the  author  in  question,  while  saying  all 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science.  439 

this,  and  much  more  to  the  same  purpose,  also  makes 
mention  of  one  exception  to  his  general  statement, 
though  he  mentions  it  in  order  to  put  it  aside.  I,  too, 
have  to  notice  the  same  exception  here ; and  you  will 
see  at  once.  Gentlemen,  as  soon  as  it  is  named,  how  little 
it  interferes  really  with  the  broad  view  which  I have 
been  drawing  out.  It  is  true,  then,  that  Revelation  has 
in  one  or  two  instances  advanced  beyond  its  chosen 
territory,  which  is  the  invisible  world,  in  order  to  throw 
light  upon  the  history  of  the  material  universe.  Holy 
Scripture,  it  is  perfectly  true,  does  declare  a few  mo- 
mentous facts,  so  few  that  they  may  be  counted,  of  a 
physical  character.  It  speaks  of  a process  of  formation 
out  of  chaos  which  occupied  six  days ; it  speaks  of  the 
firmament ; of  the  sun  and  moon  being  created  for  the 
sake  of  the  earth ; of  the  earth  being  immovable ; of  a 
great  deluge  ; and  of  several  other  similar  facts  and 
events.  It  is  true  ; nor  is  there  any  reason  why  we 
should  anticipate  any  difficulty  in  accepting  these  state- 
ments as  they  stand,  whenever  their  meaning  and  drift 
are  authoritatively  determined  ; for,  it  must  be  recol- 
lected, their  meaning  has  not  yet  engaged  the  formal 
attention  of  the  Church,  or  received  any  interpretation 
which,  as  Catholics,  we  are  bound  to  accept,  and  in 
the  absence  of  such  definite  interpretation,  there  is  per- 
haps some  presumption  in  saying  that  it  means  this,  and 
does  not  mean  that.  And  this  being  the  case,  it  is  not 
at  all  probable  that  any  discoveries  ever  should  be  made 
by  physical  inquiries  incompatible  at  the  same  time 
with  one  and  all  of  those  senses  which  the  letter  admits, 
and  which  are  still  open.  As  to  certain  popular  interpre- 
tations of  the  texts  in  question,  I shall  have  something 
to  say  of  them  presently ; here  I am  only  concerned 
with  the  letter  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  itself,  as  far  as  it 


440  Christiardty  and  Physical  Science. 

bears  upon  the  history  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth  ; and 
I say  that  we  may  wait  in  peace  and  tranquillity  till 
there  is  some  real  collision  between  Scripture  authorita- 
tively interpreted,  and  results  of  science  clearly  ascer- 
tained, before  we  consider  how  we  are  to  deal  with  a 
difficulty  which  we  have  reasonable  grounds  for  think- 
ing will  never  really  occur. 

And,  after  noticing  this  exception,  I really  have  made 
the  utmost  admission  that  has  to  be  made  about  the 
existence  of  any  common  ground  upon  which  Theology 
and  Physical  Science  may  fight  a battle.  On  the  whole, 
the  two  studies  do  most  surely  occupy  distinct  fields,  in 
which  each  may  teach  without  expecting  any  inter- 
position from  the  other.  It  might  indeed  have  pleased 
the  Almighty  to  have  superseded  physical  inquiry  by 
revealing  the  truths  which  are  its  object,  though  He  has 
not  done  so  : but  whether  it  had  pleased  Him  to  do  so 
or  not,  anyhow  Theology  and  Physics  would  be  distinct 
sciences;  and  nothing  which  the  one  says  of  the  ma- 
terial world  ever  can  contradict  what  the  other  says  of 
the  immaterial.  Here,  then,  is  the  end  of  the  question ; 
and  here  I might  come  to  an  end  also,  were  it  not  in- 
cumbent on  me  to  explain  how  it  is  that,  though  Theo- 
logy and  Physics  cannot  quarrel,  nevertheless,  Physical 
Philosophers  and  Theologians  have  quarrelled  in  fact, 
and  quarrel  still.  To  the  solution  of  this  difficulty  I 
shall  devote  the  remainder  of  my  Lecture. 

6. 

I observe,  then,  that  the  elementary  methods  of  reason- 
ing and  inquiring  used  in  Theology  and  Physics  are 
contrary  the  one  to  the  other ; each  of  them  has  a 
method  of  its  own ; and  in  this,  I think,  has  lain  the 
point  of  controversy  between  the  two  schools,  viz.,  that 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science^  44 1 

neither  of  them  has  been  quite  content  to  remain  on  its 
own  homestead,  but  that,  whereas  each  has  its  own 
method,  which  is  the  best  for  its  own  science,  each  has 
considered  it  the  best  for  all  purposes  whatever,  and  has 
at  different  times  thought  to  impose  it  upon  the  other 
science,  to  the  disparagement  or  rejection  of  that  opposite 
method  which  legitimately  belongs  to  it. 

The  argumentative  method  of  Theology  is  that  of 
a strict  science,  such  as  Geometr}^,  or  deductive  ; the 
method  of  Physics,  at  least  on  starting,  is  that  of  an 
empirical  pursuit,  or  inductive.  This  peculiarity  on  either 
side  arises  from  the  nature  of  the  case.  In  Physics  a 
vast  and  omnigenous  mass  of  information  lies  before  the 
inquirer,  all  in  a confused  litter,  and  needing  arrangement 
and  analysis.  In  Theology  such  varied  phenomena  are 
wanting,  and  Revelation  presents  itself  instead.  What  is 
known  in  Christianity  is  just  that  which  is  revealed,  and 
nothing  more;  certain  truths,  communicated  directly  from 
above,  are  committed  to  the  keeping  of  the  faithful,  and 
to  the  very  last  nothing  can  really  be  added  to  those 
truths.  From  the  time  of  the  Apostles  to  the  end  of 
the  world  no  strictly  new  truth  can  be  added  to  the  theo- 
logical information  which  the  Apostles  were  inspired  to 
deliver.  It  is  possible  of  course  to  make  numberless  de- 
ductions from  the  original  doctrines  ; but,  as  the  conclu- 
sion is  ever  in  its  premisses,  such  deductions  are  not, 
strictly  speaking,  an  addition;  and,  though  experience 
may  variously  guide  and  modify  those  deductions,  still, 
on  the  whole.  Theology  retains  the  severe  character  of 
a science,  advancing  syllogistically  from  premisses  to 
conclusion. 

The  method  of  Physics  is  just  the  reverse  of  this  : it 
has  hardly  any  principles  or  truths  to  start  with,  exter- 
nally delivered  and  already  ascertained.  It  has  to  com- 


442  Christia7iity  and  Physical  Science. 

mence  with  sight  and  touch ; it  has  to  handle,  weigh, 
and  measure  its  own  exuberant  sylva  of  phenomena,  and 
from  these  to  advance  to  new  truths, — truths,  that  is, 
which  are  beyond  and  distinct  from  the  phenomena  from 
which  they  originate.  Thus  Physical  Science  is  experi- 
mental, Theology  traditional  ; Physical  Science  is  the 
richer.  Theology  the  more  exact ; Physics  the  bolder. 
Theology  the  surer  ; Physics  progressive.  Theology,  in 
comparison,  stationary  ; Theology  is  loyal  to  the  past, 
Physics  has  visions  of  the  future.  Such  they  are,  I repeat, 
and  such  their  respective  methods  of  inquiry,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case. 

But  minds  habituated  to  either  of  these  two  methods 
can  hardly  help  extending  it  beyond  its  due  limits, 
unless  they  are  put  upon  their  guard,  and  have  great 
command  of  themselves.  It  cannot  be  denied  that 
divines  have  from  time  to  time  been  much  inclined  to 
give  a traditional,  logical  shape  to  sciences  which  do  not 
admit  of  any  such  treatment.  Nor  can  it  be  denied,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  men  of  science  often  show  a special 
irritation  at  theologians  for  going  by  antiquity,  precedent, 
authority,  and  logic,  and  for  declining  to  introduce 
Bacon  or  Niebuhr  into  their  own  school,  or  to  apply 
some  new  experimental  and  critical  process  for  the 
improvement  of  that  which  has  been  given  once  for  all 
from  above.  Hence  the  mutual  jealousy  of  the  two 
parties ; and  I shall  now  attempt  to  give  instances  of  it. 

7. 

First,  then,  let  me  refer  to  those  interpretations  of 
Scripture,  popular  and  of  long  standing,  though  not 
authoritative,  to  which  I have  already  had  occasion  to 
allude.  Scripture,  we  know,  is  to  be  interpreted  accord- 
ing to  the  unanimous  consent  of  the  Fathers ; but. 


Chridianity  and  Physical  Science,  443 

besides  this  consent,  which  is  of  authority,  carrying  with 
it  the  evidence  of  its  truth,  there  have  ever  been  in 
Christendom  a number  of  floating  opinions,  more  or  less 
appended  to  the  divine  tradition  ; opinions  which  have  a 
certain  probability  of  being  more  than  human,  or  of  having 
a basis  or  admixture  of  truth,  but  which  admit  of  no  test, 
whence  they  came,  or  how  far  they  are  true,  besides  the 
course  of  events,  and  which  meanwhile  are  to  be  received 
at  least  with  attention  and  deference.  Sometimes  they 
are  comments  on  Scripture  prophecy,  sometimes  on  other 
obscurities  or  mysteries.  It  was  once  an  opinion,  for 
instance,  drawn  from  the  sacred  text,  that  the  Chris- 
tam  Dispensation  was  to  last  a thousand  years,  and  no 
more  ; the  event  disproved  it.  A still  more  exact  and 
plausible  tradition,  derived  from  Scripture,  was  that 
which  asserted  that,  when  the  Roman  Empire  should 
fall  to  pieces.  Antichrist  should  appear,  who  should  be 
followed  at  once  by  the  Second  Coming.  Various  Fathers 
thus  interpret  St.  Paul,  and  Bellarmine  receives  the  inter- 
pretation as  late  as  the  sixteenth  century.  The  event 
alone  can  decide  if,  under  any  aspect  of  Christian  history, 
it  is  true  ; but  at  present  we  are  at  least  able  to  say  that 
it  is  not  true  in  that  broad  plain  sense  in  which  it  was 
once  received. 

Passing  from  comments  on  prophetical  passages  of 
Scripture  to  those  on  cosmological,  it  was,  I suppose,  the 
common  belief  of  ages,  sustained  by  received  interpreta- 
tions of  the  sacred  text,  that  the  earth  was  immovable. 
Hence,  I suppose,  it  was  that  the  Irish  Bishop  who  as- 
serted the  existence  of  the  Antipodes  alarmed  his  con- 
temporaries ; though  it  is  well  to  observe  that,  even  in 
the  dark  age  in  which  he  lived,  the  Holy  See,  to  which 
reference  was  made,  did  not  commit  itself  to  any  condem- 
nation of  the  unusual  opinion.  The  same  alarm  again 


444  Christianity  and  Physical  Scie7ice, 

occupied  the  public  mind  when  the  Copernican  System 
was  first  advocated : nor  were  the  received  traditions, 
which  were  the  ground  of  that  alarm,  hastily  to  be 
rejected  ; yet  rejected  they  ultimately  have  been.  If 
in  any  quarter  these  human  traditions  were  enforced, 
and,  as  it  were,  enacted,  to  the  prejudice  and  detriment 
of  scientific  investigations  (and  this  was  never  done  by 
the  Church  herself),  this  was  a case  of  undue  interference 
on  the  part  of  the  Theological  schools  in  the  province 
of  Physics. 

So  much  may  be  said  as  regards  interpretations  of 
Scripture ; but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  other  received 
opinions,  not  resting  on  the  sacred  volume,  might  with 
less  claim  and  greater  inconvenience  be  put  forward  to 
harass  the  physical  inquirer,  to  challenge  his  submission, 
and  to  preclude  that  process  of  examination  which  is 
proper  to  his  own  peculiar  pursuit.  Such  are  the  dicta- 
torial formulae  against  which  Bacon  inveighs,  and  the 
effect  of  which  was  to  change  Physics  into  a deductive 
science,  and  to  oblige  the  student  to  assume  implicitly, 
as  first  principles,  enunciations  and  maxims,  which  were 
venerable,  only  because  no  one  could  tell  whence  they 
came,  and  authoritative,  only  because  no  one  could  say 
what  arguments  there  were  in  their  favour.  In  proportion 
as  these  encroachments  were  made  upon  his  own  field  of 
inquiry  would  be  the  indignation  of  the  physical  philo- 
sopher ; and  he  would  exercise  a scepticism  which  re- 
lieved his  feelings,  while  it  approved  itself  to  his  reason, 
if  he  was  called  on  ever  to  keep  in  mind  that  light  bodies 
went  up,  and  heavy  bodies  fell  down,  and  other  similar 
maxims,  which  had  no  pretensions  to  a divine  origin,  or 
to  be  considered  self-evident  principles,  or  intuitive  truths. 

And  in  like  manner,  if  a philosopher  with  a true  genius 
for  physical  research  found  the  Physical  Schools  of  his 


ChristianUy  and  Physical  Science.  445 

day  occupied  with  the  discussion  of  final  causes,  and 
solving  difficulties  in  material  nature  by  means  of  them  ; 
if  he  found  it  decided,  for  instance,  that  the  roots  of  trees 
make  for  the  river,  because  they  need  moisture,  or  that 
the  axis  of  the  earth  lies  at  a certain  angle  to  the  plane 
of  its  motion  by  reason  of  certain  advantages  thence 
accruing  to  its  inhabitants,  I should  not  wonder  at  his 
exerting  himself  for  a great  reform  in  the  process  of  in- 
quiry, preaching  the  method  of  Induction,  and,  if  he 
fancied  that  theologians  were  indirectly  or  in  any  respect 
the  occasion  of  the  blunder,  getting  provoked  for  a time, 
however  unreasonably,  with  Theology  itself 

I wish  the  experimental  school  of  Philosophers  had 
gone  no  further  in  its  opposition  to  Theology  than  in- 
dulging in  some  indignation  at  it  for  the  fault  of  its  dis- 
ciples ; but  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  has  run  into 
excesses  on  its  own  side  for  which  the  school  of  high 
Deductive  Science  has  afforded  no  precedent ; and  that, 
if  it  once  for  a time  suffered  from  the  tyranny  of  the 
logical  method  of  inquiry,  it  has  encouraged,  by  way  of 
reprisals,  encroachments  and  usurpations  on  the  province 
of  Theology  far  more  serious  than  that  unintentional  ana 
long  obsolete  interference  with  its  own  province,  on  the 
part  of  Theologians,  which  has  been  its  excuse.  And  to 
these  unjustifiable  and  mischievous  intrusions  made  by 
the  Experimentalists  into  the  department  of  Theology 
I have  now.  Gentlemen,  to  call  your  attentioa 

8. 

You  will  let  me  repeat,  then,  what  1 have  already  said, 
that,  taking  things  as  they  are,  the  very  idea  of  Revela- 
tion is  that  of  a direct  interference  from  above,  for  the 
introduction  of  truths  otherwise  unknown ; moreover,  as 
such  a communication  implies  recipients,  an  authoritative 


446  Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 

depositary  of  the  things  revealed  will  be  found  practically 
to  be  involved  in  that  idea.  Knowledge,  then,  of  these 
revealed  truths,  is  gained,  not  by  any  research  into  facts, 
but  simply  by  appealing  to  the  authoritative  keepers  of 
them,  as  every  Catholic  knows,  by  learning  what  is  a 
matter  of  teaching,  and  by  dwelling  upon,  and  drawing 
out  into  detail,  the  doctrines  which  are  delivered ; ac- 
cording to  the  text,  Faith  cometh  by  hearing.’'  I do 
not  prove  what,  after  all,  does  not  need  proof,  because 
I speak  to  Catholics ; I am  stating  what  we  Catholics 
know,  and  ever  will  maintain  to  be  the  method  proper 
to  Theology,  as  it  has  ever  been  recognized.  Such,  I 
say,  is  the  theological  method,  deductive  ; however,  the 
history  of  the  last  three  centuries  is  only  one  long  course 
of  attempts,  on  the  part  of  the  partisans  of  the  Baconian 
Philosophy,  to  get  rid  of  the  method  proper  to  Theology 
and  to  make  it  an  experimental  science. 

But,  I say,  for  an  experimental  science,  we  must  have 
a large  collection  of  phenomena  or  facts  : where,  then,  are 
those  which  are  to  be  adopted  as  a basis  for  an  inductive 
theology  ? Three  principal  stores  have  been  used.  Gentle- 
men : the  first,  the  text  of  Holy  Scripture ; the  second, 
the  events  and  transactions  of  ecclesiastical  history  ; the 
third,  the  phenomena  of  the  visible  world.  This  triple 
subject-matter, — Scripture,  Antiquity,  Nature, — has  been 
taken  as  a foundation,  on  which  the  inductive  method  may 
be  exercised  for  the  investigation  and  ascertainment  ot 
that  theological  truth,  which  to  a Catholic  is  a matter  of 
teaching,  transmission,  and  deduction. 

Now  let  us  pause  for  a moment  and  make  a reflection 
before  going  into  any  detail.  Truth  cannot  be  contrary 
to  truth  ; if  these  three  subject-matters  were  able,  under 
the  pressure  of  the  inductive  method,  to  yield  respectively 
theological  conclusions  in  unison  and  in  concord  with  each 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science.  z]47 

other,  and  also  contrary  to  the  doctrines  of  Theology  as 
a deductive  science,  then  that  Theology  would  not  indeed 
at  once  be  overthrown  (for  still  the  question  would  remain 
for  discussion,  which  of  the  two  doctrinal  systems  was  the 
truth,  and  which  the  apparent  truth),  but  certainly  the 
received  deductive  theological  science  would  be  in  an 
anxious  position,  and  would  be  on  its  trial. 

Again,  truth  cannot  be  contrary  to  truth  ; — if,  then,  on 
tlie  other  hand,  these  three  subject-matters, — Scripture, 
Antiquity,  and  Nature, — worked  through  three  centuries 
by  men  of  great  abilities,  with  the  method  or  instrument 
of  Bacon  in  their  hands,  have  respectively  issued  in  con- 
clusions contradictory  of  each  other,  nay,  have  even  issued, 
this  or  that  taken  by  itself.  Scripture  or  Antiquity,  in 
various  systems  of  doctrine,  so  that  on  the  whole,  instead 
of  all  three  resulting  in  one  set  of  conclusions,  they  have 
yielded  a good  score  of  them  ; then  and  in  that  case- — 
it  does  not  at  once  follow  that  no  one  of  this  score  of 
conclusions  may  happen  to  be  the  true  one,  and  all  the 
rest  false  ; but  at  least  such  a catastrophe  will  throw 
a very  grave  shade  of  doubt  upon  them  all,  and  bears  out 
the  antecedent  declaration,  or  rather  prophecy,  of  theo- 
logians, before  these  experimentalists  started,  that  it  was 
nothing  more  than  a huge  mistake  to  introduce  the  method 
of  research  and  of  induction  into  the  study  of  Theology 
at  all. 

Now  I think  you  will  allow  me  to  say.  Gentlemen,  as 
a matter  of  historical  fact,  that  the  latter  supposition  has 
been  actually  fulfilled,  and  that  the  former  has  not.  I 
mean  that,  so  far  from  a scientific  proof  of  some  one 
system  of  doctrine,  and  that  antagonistic  to  the  old 
Theology,  having  been  constructed  by  the  experimental 
party,  by  a triple  convergence,  from  the  several  bases  of 
Scripture,  Antiquity,  and  Nature,  on  the  contrary,  that 


448  Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 


empirical  method,  which  has  done  such  wonderful  things 
in  physics  and  other  human  sciences,  has  sustained  a most 
emphatic  and  eloquent  reverse  in  its  usurped  territory, — 
has  come  to  no  one  conclusion, — has  illuminated  no  de- 
finite view, — has  brought  its  glasses  to  no  focus, — has 
shown  not  even  a tendency  towards  prospective  success  ; 
nay,  further  still,  has  already  confessed  its  own  absolute 
failure,  and  has  closed  the  inquiry  itself,  not  indeed  by 
giving  place  to  the  legitimate  method  which  it  dispos- 
sessed, but  by  announcing  that  nothing  can  be  known 
on  the  subject  at  all, — that  religion  is  not  a science,  and 
that  in  religion  scepticism  is  the  only  true  philosophy ; 
or  again,  by  a still  more  remarkable  avowal,  that  the 
decision  lies  between  the  old  Theology  and  none  at  all, 
and  that,  certain  though  it  be  that  religious  truth  is  no- 
where, yet  that,  if  anywhere  it  is,  it  undoubtedly  is  not 
in  the  new  empirical  schools,  but  in  that  old  teaching, 
founded  on  the  deductive  method,  which  was  in  honour 
and  in  possession  at  the  time  when  Experiment  and  In- 
duction commenced  their  brilliant  career.  What  a sin- 
gular break-down  of  a noble  instrument,  when  used  for 
the  arrogant  and  tyrannical  invasion  of  a sacred  territory! 
What  can  be  more  sacred  than  Theology  ? What  can 
be  more  noble  than  the  Baconian  method  ? But  the  two 
do  not  correspond  ; they  are  mismatched.  The  age  has 
mistaken  lock  and  key.  It  has  broken  the  key  in  a lock 
which  does  not  belong  to  it ; it  has  ruined  the  wards  by 
a key  which  never  will  fit  into  them.  Let  us  hope  that 
its  present  disgust  and  despair  at  the  result  are  the  pre- 
liminaries of  a generous  and  great  repentance. 

I have  thought.  Gentlemen,  that  you  would  allow  me 
to  draw  this  moral  in  the  first  place  ; and  now  I will  say 
a few  words  on  one  specimen  of  this  error  in  detail 


Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 


449 


9- 

It  seems,  then,  that  instead  of  having  recourse  to  the 
tradition  and  teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church,  it  has  been 
the  philosophy  of  the  modern  school  to  attempt  to  de- 
termine the  doctrines  of  Theology  by  means  of  Holy 
Scripture,  or  of  ecclesiastical  antiquity,  or  *of  physical 
phenomena.  And  the  question  may  arise,  why,  after  all, 
should  not  such  informations,  scriptural,  historical,  or 
physical,  be  used  1 and  if  used,  why  should  they  not  lead 
to  true  results  Various  answers  may  be  given  to  this 
question  : I shall  confine  myself  to  one ; and  again,  for 
the  sake  of  brevity,  I shall  apply  it  mainly  to  one  out  of 
the  three  expedients,  to  which  the  opponents  to  Theology 
have  had  recourse.  Passing  over,  then,  what  might  be 
said  respecting  what  is  called  Scriptural  Religion,  and 
Historical  Religion,  I propose  to  direct  your  attention,  in 
conclusion,  to  the  real  character  of  Physical  Religion,  or 
Natural  Theology,  as  being  more  closely  connected  with 
the  main  subject  of  this  Lecture. 

The  school  of  Physics,  from  its  very  drift  and  method 
of  reasoning,  has,  as  I have  said,  nothing  to  do  with 
Religion.  However,  there  is  a science  which  avails  itself 
of  the  phenomena  and  laws  of  the  material  universe,  as 
exhibited  by  that  school,  as  a means  of  establishing  the 
existence  of  Design  in  their  construction,  and  thereby 
the  fact  of  a Creator  and  Preserver.  This  science  has,  in 
these  modern  times,  at  least  in  England,  taken  the  name 
of  Natural  Theology  ;*  and,  though  absolutely  distinct 
from  Physics,  yet  Physical  Philosophers,  having  furnished 
its  most  curious  and  interesting  data,  are  apt  to  claim  it 
as  their  own,  and  to  pride  themselves  upon  it  accordingly. 

* I use  the  word,  not  in  the  sense  of  “ Naturalis  Theologia,*^  but,  in  the 
sense  in  which  Paley  uses  it  in  the  work  which  he  has  so  entitled. 

29 


450  Christianity  and  Physical  Science. 

I have  no  wish  to  speak  lightly  of  the  merits  of  this 
so-called  Natural  or,  more  properly,  Physical  Theology. 
There  are  a great  many  minds  so  constituted  that,  when 
they  turn  their  thoughts  to  the  question  of  the  existence 
of  a Supreme  Being,  they  feel  a comfort  in  resting  the 
proof  mainly  or  solely  on  the  Argument  of  Design  which 
the  Universe  furnishes.  To  them  this  science  of  Physical 
Theology  is  of  high  importance.  Again,  this  science 
exhibits,  in  great  prominence  and  distinctness,  three  of 
the  more  elementary  notions  which  the  human  reason 
attaches  to  the  idea  of  a Supreme  Being,  that  is,  three  of 
His  simplest  attributes.  Power,  Wisdom,  and  Goodness. 

These  are  great  services  rendered  to  faith  by  Physical 
Theology,  and  I acknowledge  them  as  such.  Whether, 
however.  Faith  on  that  account  owes  any  great  deal  to 
Physics  or  Physicists,  is  another  matter.  The  Argument 
from  Design  is  really  in  no  sense  due  to  the  philosophy 
of  Bacon.  The  author  I quoted  just  now  has  a striking 
passage  on  this  point,  of  which  I have  already  read  to 
you  a part.  ''As  respects  Natural  Religion,”  he  says,  "it 
is  not  easy  to  see  that  the  philosopher  of  the  present  day 
is  more  favourably  situated  than  Thales  or  Simonides. 
He  has  before  him  just  the  same  evidences  of  design  in 
the  structure  of  the  universe  which  the  early  Greeks  had. 
We  say,  just  the  same ; for  the  discoveries  of  modern  astro- 
nomers and  anatomists  have  really  added  nothing  to  the 
force  of  that  argument  which  a reflecting  mind  finds  in 
every  beast,  bird,  insect,  fish,  leaf,  flower,  and  shell.  The 
reasoning  by  which  Socrates,  in  Xenophon's  hearing, 
confuted  the  little  atheist,  Aristodemus,  is  exactly  the 
reasoning  of  Paley's  Natural  Theology.  Socrates  makes 
precisely  the  same  use  of  the  statues  of  Polycletus  and 
the  pictures  of  Zeuxis,  which  Paley  makes  of  the  watch.” 

Physical  Theology,  then,  is  pretty  much  what  it  was 


Christianity  a^td  Physical  Science,  45 1 

two  thousand  years  ago,  and  has  not  received  much  help 
from  modern  science  : but  now,  on  the  contrary,  I think 
it  has  received  from  it  a positive  disadvantage, — I mean, 
it  has  been  taken  out  of  its  place,  has  been  put  too  promi- 
nently forward,  and  thereby  has  almost  been  used  as  an 
instrument  against  Christianity, — as  I will  attempt  in  a 
few  words  to  explain. 


10. 

I observe,  then,  that  there  are  many  investigations  in 
ev(Ty  subject-matter  which  only  lead  us  a certain  way 
towards  truth,  and  not  the  whole  way : either  leading  us, 
for  instance,  to  a strong  probability,  not  to  a certainty,  or 
again,  proving  only  some  things  out  of  the  whole  number 
which  are  true.  And  it  is  plain  that  if  such  investiga- 
tions as  these  are  taken  as  the  measure  of  the  whole 
truth,  and  are  erected  into  substantive  sciences,  instead 
of  being  understood  to  be,  what  they  really  are,  inchoate 
and  subordinate  processes,  they  will,  accidentally  indeed, 
but  seriously,  mislead  us. 

I.  Let  us  recur  for  a moment,  in  illustration,  to  the 
instances  which  I have  put  aside.  Consider  what  is  called 
Scriptural  Religion,  or  the  Religion  of  the  Bible.  The 
fault  which  the  theologian,  over  and  above  the  question  of 
private  judgment,  will  find  with  a religion  logically  drawn 
from  Scripture  only,  is,  not  that  it  is  not  true,  as  far  as  it 
goes,  but  that  it  is  not  the  whole  truth  ; that  it  consists  of 
only  some  out  of  the  whole  circle  of  theological  doctrines, 
and  that,  even  in  the  case  of  those  which  it  includes,  it 
does  not  always  invest  them  with  certainty,  but  only  with 
probability.  If,  indeed,  the  Religion  of  the  Bible  is  made 
subservient  to  Theology,  it  is  but  a specimen  of  useful 
induction  ; but  if  it  is  set  up,  as  something  complete  in 
itself,  against  Theology,  it  is  turned  into  a mischievous 


45  2 Christianity  and  P^hysical  Science. 

paralogism.  And  if  such  a paralogism  has  taken  place, 
and  that  in  consequence  of  the  influence  of  the  Baconian 
philosophy,  it  shows  us  what  comes  of  the  intrusion  of  that 
philosophy  into  a province  with  which  it  had  no  concern. 

2.  And  so,  again,  as  to  Historical  Religion,  or  what  is 
often  called  Antiquity.  A research  into  the  records  of 
the  early  Church  no  Catholic  can  view  with  jealousy : 
truth  cannot  be  contrary  to  truth  ; we  are  confident  that 
what  is  there  found  will,  when  maturely  weighed,  be 
nothing  else  than  an  illustration  and  confirmation  of 
our  own  Theology.  But  it  is  another  thing  altogether 
whether  the  results  will  go  to  the  full  lengths  of  our 
Theology  ; they  will  indeed  concur  with  it,  but  only  as  far 
as  they  go.  There  is  no  reason  why  the  data  for  investi- 
gation supplied  by  the  extant  documents  of  Antiquity 
should  be  sufficient  for  all  that  was  included  in  the  Divine 
Revelation  delivered  by  the  Apostles  ; and  to  expect 
that  they  will  is  like  expecting  that  one  witness  in  a 
trial  is  to  prove  the  whole  case,  and  that  his  testimony 
actually  contradicts  it,  unless  it  does.  While,  then,  this 
research  into  ecclesiastical  history  and  the  writings  of 
the  Fathers  keeps  its  proper  place,  as  subordinate  to  the 
magisterial  sovereignty  of  the  Theological  Tradition 
and  the  voice  of  the  Church,  it  deserves  the  acknow- 
ledgments of  theologians  ; but  when  it  (so  to  say)  sets 
up  for  itself,  when  it  professes  to  fulfil  an  office  for  which 
it  was  never  intended,  when  it  claims  to  issue  in  a true 
and  full  teaching,  derived  by  a scientific  process  of 
induction,  then  it  is  but  another  instance  of  the  encroach- 
ment of  the  Baconian  empirical  method  in  a depart- 
ment not  its  own. 

3.  And  now  we  come  to  the  case  of  Physical  Theology, 
which  is  directly  before  us.  I confess,  in  spite  of  what- 
ever may  be  said  in  its  favour.  I have  ever  viewed  it  with 


Christiaiiity  and  Physical  Science,  453 

the  greatest  suspicion.  As  one  class  of  thinkers  has 
substituted  what  is  called  a Scriptural  Religion,  and 
another  a Patristical  or  Primitive  Religion,  for  the  theo- 
logical teaching  of  Catholicism,  so  a Physical  Religion 
or  Theology  is  the  very  gospel  of  many  persons  of  the 
Physical  School,  and  therefore,  true  as  it  may  be  in  itself, 
still  under  the  circumstances  is  a false  gospel.  Half  of 
the  truth  is  a falsehood  : — consider.  Gentlemen,  what  this 
so-called  Theology  teaches,  and  then  say  whether  what 
I have  asserted  is  extravagant. 

Any  one  divine  attribute  of  course  virtually  includes 
all  ; still  if  a preacher  always  insisted  on  the  Divine 
Justice,  he  would  practically  be  obscuring  the  Divine 
Mercy,  and  if  he  insisted  only  on  the  incommunicableness 
and  distance  from  the  creature  of  the  Uncreated  Essence, 
he  would  tend  to  throw  into  the  shade  the  doctrine  of  a 
Particular  Providence.  Observe,  then.  Gentlemen,  that 
Physical  Theology  teaches  three  Divine  Attributes,  I may 
say,  exclusively  ; and  of  these,  most  of  Power,  and  least 
of  Goodness. 

And  in  the  next  place,  what,  on  the  contrary,  are  those 
special  Attributes,  which  are  the  immediate  correlatives 
of  religious  sentiment.'^  Sanctity,  omniscience,  justice, 
mercy,  faithfulness.  What  does  Physical  Theology,  what 
does  the  Argument  from  Design,  what  do  fine  disquisitions 
about  final  causes,  teach  us,  except  very  indirectly,  faintly, 
enigmatically,  of  these  transcendently  important,  these 
essential  portions  of  the  idea  of  Religion  } Religion  is 
more  than  Theology  ; it  is  something  relative  to  us  ; and 
it  includes  our  relation  towards  the  Object  of  it.  What 
does  Physical  Theology  tell  us  of  duty  and  conscience  } 
of  a particular  providence  } and,  coming  at  length  to 
Christianity,  what  does  it  teach  us  even  of  the  four  last 
things,  death,  judgment,  heaven,  and  hell,  the  mere  ele- 


454  Christianity  afid  Physical  Science. 

ments  of  Christianity  ? It  cannot  tell  us  anything  of 
Christianity  at  all. 

Gentlemen,  let  me  press  this  point  upon  your  earnest 
attention.  I say  Physical  Theology  cannot,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  tell  us  one  word  about  Christianity 
proper  ; it  cannot  be  Christian,  in  any  true  sense,  at  all : 
— and  from  this  plain  reason,  because  it  is  derived  from 
informations  which  existed  just  as  they  are  now,  before 
man  was  created,  and  Adam  fell.  How  can  that  be  a 
real  substantive  Theology,  though  it  takes  the  name, 
which  is  but  an  abstraction,  a particular  aspect  of  the 
whole  truth,  and  is  dumb  almost  as  regards  the  moral 
attributes  of  the  Creator,  and  utterly  so  as  regards  the 
evangelical } 

Nay,  more  than  this ; I do  not  hesitate  to  say  that, 
taking  men  as  they  are,  this  so-called  science  tends,  if  it 
occupies  the  mind,  to  dispose  it  against  Christianity.  And 
for  this  plain  reason,  because  it  speaks  only  of  lav/s  ; and 
cannot  contemplate  their  suspension,  that  is,  miracles, 
which  are  of  the  essence  of  the  idea  of  a Revelation. 
Thus,  the  God  of  Physical  Theology  may  very  easily 
become  a mere  idol ; for  He  comes  to  the  inductive  mind 
in  the  medium  of  fixed  appointments,  so  excellent,  so 
skilful,  so  beneficent,  that,  when  it  has  for  a long  time 
gazed  upon  them,  it  will  think  them  too  beautiful  to  be 
broken,  and  will  at  length  so  contract  its  notion  of  Him 
as  to  conclude  that  He  never  could  have  the  heart  (if  I 
may  dare  use  such  a term)  to  undo  or  mar  His  own  work  ; 
and  this  conclusion  will  be  the  first  step  towards  its  de- 
grading its  idea  of  God  a second  time,  and  identifying 
Him  with  His  works.  Indeed,  a Being  of  Power,  Wisdom, 
and  Goodness,  and  nothing  else,  is  not  very  different  from 
the  God  of  the  Pantheist. 

In  thus  speaking  of  the  Theology  of  the  modern  Phy- 


Christianity  a?tJi  Physical  Science.  455 

sical  School,  I have  said  but  a f ew  words  on  a large  sub- 
ject ; yet,  though  few  words,  I trust  they  are  clear  enough 
not  to  hazard  the  risk  of  being  taken  in  a sense  which  I 
do  not  intend.  Graft  the  science,  if  it  is  so  to  be  called, 
on  Theology  proper,  and  it  will  be  in  its  right  place,  and 
will  be  a religious  science.  Then  it  will  illustrate  the 
awful,  incomprehensible,  adorable  Fertility  of  the  Divine 
Omnipotence  ; it  will  serve  to  prove  the  real  miraculous- 
ness of  the  Revelation  in  its  various  parts,  by  impressing 
on  the  mind  vividly  what  are  the  laws  of  nature,  and  how 
immutable  they  are  in  their  own  order  ; and  it  will  in 
other  ways  subserve  theological  truth.  Separate  it  from 
the  supernatural  teaching,  and  make  it  stand  on  its  own 
base,  and  (though  of  course  it  is  better  for  the  individual 
philosopher  himself),  yet,  as  regards  his  influence  on  the 
world  and  the  interests  of  Religion,  I really  doubt  .whether 
I should  not  prefer  that  he  should  be  an  Atheist  at  once 
than  such  a naturalistic,  pantheistic  religionist.  His 
profession  of  Theology  deceives  others,  perhaps  deceives 
himself. 

Do  not  for  an  instant  suppose,  Gentlemen,  that  I would 
identify  the  great  mind  of  Bacon  with  so  serious  a delu- 
sion: he  has  expressly  warned  us  against  it;  but  T cannot 
deny  that  many  of  his  school  have  from  time  to  time  in 
this  way  turned  physical  research  against  Christianity. 

But  I have  detained  you  far  longer  than  I had  in- 
tended ; and  now  I can  oniy  thank  you  for  the  patience 
which  has  enabled  you  to  sustain  a discussion  which 
cannot  be  complete,  upon  a subject  which,  however 
tnomentous,  cannot  be  popular. 


456 


VIII. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  SCIENTIFIC  INVESTIGATION. 

A LECTURE  WRITTEN  FOR  THE  SCHOOL  OF  SCIENCE. 


I. 


HIS  is  a time,  Gentlemen,  when  not  only  the 


JL  Classics,  but  much  more  the  Sciences,  in  the  largest 
sense  of  the  word,  are  looked  upon  with  anxiety,  not 
altogether  ungrounded,  by  religious  men ; and,  whereas 
a University  such  as  ours  professes  to  embrace  all  depart- 
ments and  exercises  of  the  intellect,  and  since  I for 
my  part  wish  to  stand  on  good  terms  with  all  kinds  of 
knowledge,  and  have  no  intention  of  quarrelling  with 
any,  and  would  open  my  heart,  if  not  my  intellect  (for 
that  is  beyond  me),  to  the  whole  circle  of  truth,  and 
would  tender  at  least  a recognition  and  hospitality  even 
to  those  studies  which  are  strangers  to  me,  and  would 
speed  them  on  their  way, — therefore,  as  I have  already 
been  making  overtures  of  reconciliation,  first  between 
Polite  Literature  and  Religion,  and  next  between  Physics 
and  Theology,  so  I would  now  say  a word  by  way  of  de- 
precating and  protesting  against  the  needless  antagonism, 
which  sometimes  exists  in  fact,  between  divines  and  the 
cultivators  of  the  Sciences  generally. 


2. 


Here  I am  led  at  once  to  expatiate  on  the  grandeur 


Chrisiia^iity  and  Scientific  Investigation,  457 

of  an  Institution  which  is  comprehensive  enough  to 
admit  the  discussion  of  a subject  such  as  this.  Among 
the  objects  of  human  enterprise, — I may  say  it  surely 
without  extravagance,  Gentlemen, — none  higher  or 
nobler  can  be  named  than  that  which  is  contemplated 
in  the  erection  of  a University.  To  set  on  foot  and  to 
maintain  in  life  and  vigour  a real  University,  is  con- 
fessedly, as  soon  as  the  word  University  is  under- 
stood, one  of  those  greatest  works,  great  in  their  difficulty 
and  their  importance,  on  which  are  deservedly  expended 
the  rarest  intellects  and  the  most  varied  endowments. 
For,  first  of  all,  it  professes  to  teach  whatever  has  to  be 
taught  in  any  whatever  department  of  human  knowledge, 
and  it  embraces  in  its  scope  the  loftiest  subjects  of 
human  thought,  and  the  richest  fields  of  human  inquiry, 
Nothing  is  too  vast,  nothing  too  subtle,  nothing  too  dis- 
tant, nothing  too  minute,  nothing  too  discursive,  nothing 
too  exact,  to  engage  its  attention. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  reason  why  I claim  for  it  so 
sovereign  a position  ; for,  to  bring  schools  of  all  know- 
ledge under  one  name,  and  call  them  a University,  may 
be  fairly  said  to  be  a mere  generalization  ; and  to  pro- 
claim that  the  prosecution  of  all  kinds  of  knowledge  to 
their  utmost  limits  demands  the  fullest  reach  and  range 
of  our  intellectual  faculties  is  but  a truism.  My  reason 
for  speaking  of  a University  in  the  terms  on  which  I 
have  ventured  is,  not  that  it  occupies  the  whole  territory 
of  knowledge  merely,  but  that  it  is  the  very  realm  ; that 
it  professes  much  more  than  to  take  in  and  to  lodge  as 
in  a caravanserai  all  art  and  science,  all  history  and 
philosophy.  In  truth,  it  professes  to  assign  to  each 
study,  which  it  receives,  its  own  proper  place  and  its  just 
boundaries ; to  define  the  rights,  to  establish  the  mutual 
relations,  and  to  effect  the  intercommunion  of  one  and 


458  Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation 

all ; to  keep  in  check  the  ambitious  and  encroaching, 
and  to  succour  and  maintain  those  which  from  time  to 
time  are  succumbing  under  the  more  popular  or  the 
more  fortunately  circumstanced ; to  keep  the  peace  be- 
tween them  all,  and  to  convert  their  mutual  differences 
and  contrarieties  into  the  common  good.  This,  Gentle- 
men, is  why  I say  that  to  erect  a University  is  at  once 
so  arduous  and  beneficial  an  undertaking,  viz.,  because 
it  is  pledged  to  admit,  without  fear,  without  prejudice, 
without  compromise,  all  comers,  if  they  come  in  the 
name  of  Truth  ; to  adjust  views,  and  experiences,  and 
habits  of  mind  the  most  independent  and  dissimilar  ; 
and  to  give  full  play  to  thought  and  erudition  in  their 
most  original  forms,  and  their  most  intense  expressions, 
and  in  their  most  ample  circuit.  Thus  to  draw  many 
things  into  one,  is  its  special  function  ; and  it  learns  to 
do  it,  not  by  rules  reducible  to  writing,  but  by  sagacity, 
wisdom,  and  forbearance,  acting  upon  a profound  insight 
into  the  subject-matter  of  knowledge,  and  by  a vigilant 
repression  of  aggression  or  bigotry  in  any  quarter. 

We  count  it  a great  thing,  and  justly  so,  to  plan  and 
carry  out  a wide  political  organization.  To  bring  under 
one  yoke,  after  the  manner  of  old  Rome,  a hundred 
discordant  peoples ; to  maintain  each  of  them  in  its  own 
privileges  within  its  legitimate  range  of  action  ; to  allow 
them  severally  the  indulgence  of  national  feelings,  and 
the  stimulus  of  rival  interests ; and  yet  withal  to  blend 
them  into  one  great  social  establishment,  and  to  pledge 
them  to  the  perpetuity  of  the  one  imperial  power  ; — this 
is  an  achievement  which  carries  with  it  the  unequivocal 
token  of  genius  in  the  race  which  effects  it. 

‘‘  Tu  regere  imperio  populos,  Romane,  memento.” 

This  was  the  special  boast,  as  the  poet  considered  it, 


Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation,  459 

of  the  Roman ; a boast  as  high  in  its  own  line  as  that 
other  boast,  proper  to  the  Greek  nation,  of  literary  pre- 
eminence, of  exuberance  of  thought,  and  of  skill  and 
refinement  in  expressing  it. 

What  an  empire  is  in  political  history,  such  is  a 
University  in  the  sphere  of  philosophy  and  research.  It 
is,  as  I have  said,  the  high  protecting  power  of  all  know- 
ledge and  science,  of  fact  and  principle,  of  inquiry  and 
discovery,  of  experiment  and  speculation  ; it  maps  out 
the  territory  of  the  intellect,  and  sees  that  the  boundaries 
of  each  province  are  religiously  respected,  and  that  there 
is  neither  encroachment  nor  surrender  on  any  side.  It 
acts  as  umpire  between  truth  and  truth,  and,  taking  into 
account  the  nature  and  importance  of  each,  assigns  to  all 
their  due  order  of  precedence.  It  maintains  no  one 
department  of  thought  exclusively,  however  ample  and 
noble  ; and  it  sacrifices  none.  It  is  deferential  and  loyal, 
according  to  their  respective  weight,  to  the  claims  of 
literature,  of  physical  research,  of  history,  of  metaphysics, 
of  theological  science.  It  is  impartial  towards  them  all, 
and  promotes  each  in  its  own  place  and  for  its  own 
object.  It  is  ancillary  certainly,  and  of  necessity,  to  the 
Catholic  Church ; but  in  the  same  way  that  one  of  the 
Queen’s  judges  is  an  officer  of  the  Queen’s,  and  never- 
theless determines  certain  legal  proceedings  between  the 
Queen  and  her  subjects.  It  is  ministrative  to  the  Catholic 
Church,  first,  because  truth  of  any  kind  can  but  minister 
to  truth  ; and  next,  still  more,  because  Nature  ever  will 
pay  homage  to  Grace,  and  Reason  cannot  but  illustrate 
and  defend  Revelation  ; and  thirdly,  because  the  Church 
has  a sovereign  authority,  and,  when  she  speaks  ex  cathe- 
drUy  must  be  obeyed.  But  this  is  the  remote  end  of  a 
University;  its  immediate  end  (with  which  alone  we 
have  here  to  do)  is  to  secure  the  due  disposition,  accord- 


/ 


460  Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation. 

ing  to  one  sovereign  order,  and  the  cultivation  in  that 
order,  of  all  the  provinces  and  methods  of  thought  which 
the  human  intellect  has  created. 

In  this  point  of  view,  its  several  professors  are  like  the 
ministers  of  various  political  powers  at  one  court  or  con- 
ference. They  represent  their  respective  sciences,  and 
attend  to  the  private  interests  of  those  sciences  respec- 
tively ; and,  should  dispute  arise  between  those  sciences, 
they  are  the  persons  to  talk  over  and  arrange  it,  without 
risk  of  extravagant  pretensions  on  any  side,  of  angry 
collision,  or  of  popular  commotion.  A liberal  philosophy 
becomes  the  habit  of  minds  thus  exercised  ; a breadth 
and  spaciousness  of  thought,  in  which  lines,  seemingly 
parallel,  may  converge  at  leisure,  and  principles,  recog- 
nized as  incommensurable,  may  be  safely  antagonistic. 


3. 

And  here.  Gentlemen,  we  recognize  the  special  cha- 
racter of  the  Philosophy  I am  speaking  of,  if  Philosophy 
it  is  to  be  called,  in  contrast  with  the  method  of  a strict 
science  or  system.  Its  teaching  is  not  founded  on  one 
idea,  or  reducible  to  certain  formulae.  Newton  might 
discover  the  great  law  of  motion  in  the  physical  world, 
and  the  key  to  ten  thousand  phenomena  ; and  a similar 
resolution  of  complex  facts  into  simple  principles  may 
be  possible  in  other  departments  of  nature  ; but  the 
great  Universe  itself,  moral  and  material,  sensible  and 
supernatural,  cannot  be  gauged  and  meted  by  even  the 
greatest  of  human  intellects,  and  its  constituent  parts 
admit  indeed  of  comparison  and  adjustment,  but  not 
of  fusion.  This  is  the  point  which  bears  directly  on  the 
subject  which  I set  before  me  when  I began,  and  towards 
which  I am  moving  in  all  I have  said  or  shall  be  saying. 

I observe, then,  and  ask  you.  Gentlemen,  to  bear  in  mind. 


Christianity  a7id  Scientific  Investigation.  461 

that  the  philosophy  of  an  imperial  intellect,  for  such  I 
am  considering  a University  to  be,  is  based,  not  so  much 
on  simplification  as  on  discrimination.  Its  true  repre- 
sentative defines,  rather  than  analyzes.  He  aims  at  no 
complete  catalogue,  or  interpretation  of  the  subjects  of 
knowledge,  but  a following  out,  as  far  as  man  can,  what 
in  its  fulness  is  mysterious  and  unfathomable.  Taking 
into  his  charge  all  sciences,  methods,  collections  of  facts, 
principles,  doctrines,  truths,  which  are  the  reflexions  of 
the  universe  upon  the  human  intellect,  he  admits  them  all, 
he  disregards  none,  and,  as  disregarding  none,  he  allows 
none  to  exceed  or  encroach.  His  watchword  is.  Live 
and  let  live.  He  takes  things  as  they  are;  he  submits  to 
them  all,  as  far  as  they  go  ; he  recognizes  the  insuperable 
lines  of  demarcation  which  run  between  subject  and 
subject;  he  observes  how  separate  truths  lie  relatively 
to  each  other,  where  they  concur,  where  they  part  com- 
pany, and  where,  being  carried  too  far,  they  cease  to  be 
truths  at  all.  It  is  his  office  to  determine  how  much  can  be 
known  in  each  province  of  thought ; when  we  must  be 
contented  not  to  know  ; in  what  direction  inquiry  is 
hopeless,  or  on  the  other  hand  full  of  promise  ; where  it 
gathers  into  coils  insoluble  by  reason,  where  it  is  absorbed 
in  mysteries,  or  runs  into  the  abyss.  It  will  be  his  care  to 
be  familiar  with  the  signs  of  real  and  apparent  difficulties, 
with  the  methods  proper  to  particular  subject-matters, 
what  in  each  particular  case  are  the  limits  of  a rational 
scepticism,  and  what  the  claims  of  a peremptory  faith.  If 
he  has  one  cardinal  maxim  in  his  philosophy,  it  is,  that 
truth  cannot  be  contrary  to  truth  ; if  he  has  a second,  it  is, 
that  truth  often  seems  contrary  to  truth  ; and,  if  a third, 
it  is  the  practical  conclusion,  that  we  must  be  patient 
with  such  appearances,  and  not  be  hasty  to  pronounce 
them  to  be  really  of  a more  formidable  character. 


462  Christia7iity  and  Scientific  Investigatiofi. 

It  is  the  very  immensity  of  the  system  of  things,  the 
human  record  of  which  he  has  in  charge,  which  is  the 
reason  of  this  patience  and  caution  ; for  that  immensity 
suggests  to  him  that  the  contrarieties  and  mysteries,  which 
meet  him  in  the  various  sciences,  may  be  simply  the 
consequences  of  our  necessarily  defective  comprehension. 
There  is  but  one  thought  greater  than  that  of  the  universe, 
and  that  is  the  thought  of  its  Maker.  If,  Gentlemen,  for 
one  single  instant,  leaving  my  proper  train  of  thought,  I 
allude  to  our  knowledge  of  the  Supreme  Being,  it  is  in 
order  to  deduce  from  it  an  illustration  bearing  upon  my 
subject.  He,  though  One,  is  a sort  of  world  of  worlds  in 
Himself,  giving  birth  in  our  minds  to  an  indefinite  number 
of  distinct  truths,  each  ineffably  more  mysterious  than 
any  thing  that  is  found  in  this  universe  of  space  and  time. 
Any  one  of  His  attributes,  considered  by  itself,  is  the 
object  of  an  inexhaustible  science  : and  the  attempt  to 
reconcile  any  two  or  three  of  them  together, — love,  power, 
justice,  sanctity,  truth,  wisdom, — affords  matter  for  an 
everlasting  controversy.  We  are  able  to  apprehend  and 
receive  each  divine  attribute  in  its  elementary  form,  but 
still  we  are  not  able  to  accept  them  in  their  infinity, 
either  in  themselves  or  in  union  with  each  other.  Yet 
we  do  not  deny  the  first  because  it  cannot  be  perfectly 
reconciled  with  the  second,  nor  the  second  because  it  is 
in  apparent  contrariety  with  the  first  and  the  third.  The 
case  is  the  same  in  its  degree  with  His  creation  material 
and  moral.  It  is  the  highest  wisdom  to  accept  truth  of 
whatever  kind,  wherever  it  is  clearly  ascertained  to  be 
such,  though  there  be  difficulty  in  adjusting  it  with  other 
known  truth. 

Instances  are  easily  producible  of  that  extreme  con- 
trariety of  ideas,  one  with  another,  which  the  contemplation 
of  the  Universe  forces  upon  our  acceptance,  making  it 


Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation,  463 

clear  to  us  that  there  is  nothing  irrational  in  submitting  to 
undeniable  incompatibilities,  which  we  call  apparent,  only 
because,  if  they  were  not  apparent  but  real,  they  could 
not  co-exist.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the  contemplation  of 
Space;  the  existence  of  which  we  cannot  deny,  though  its 
idea  is  capable,  in  no  sort  of  posture,  of  seating  itself  (if  I 
may  so  speak)  in  our  minds; — for  we  find  it  impossible  to 
say  that  it  comes  to  a limit  anywhere ; and  it  is  incompre- 
hensible to  say  that  it  runs  out  infinitely;  and  it  seems  to 
be  unmeaning  if  we  say  that  it  does  not  exist  till  bodies 
come  into  it,  and  thus  is  enlarged  according  to  an  accident. 

And  so  again  in  the  instance  of  Time.  We  cannot 
place  a beginning  to  it  without  asking  ourselves  what 
was  before  that  beginning  ; yet  that  there  should  be  no 
beginning  at  all,  put  it  as  far  back  as  we  will,  is  simply 
incomprehensible.  Here  again,  as  in  the  case  of  Space, 
we  never  dream  of  denying  the  existence  of  what  we 
have  no  means  of  understanding. 

And,  passing  from  this  high  region  of  thought  (which, 
high  as  it  may  be,  is  the  subject  even  of  a child’s  contem- 
plations), when  w;e  come  to  consider  the  mutual  action 
of  soul  and  body,  we  are  specially  perplexed  by  incom- 
patibilities which  we  can  neither  reject  nor  explain. 
How  it  is  that  the  will  can  act  on  the  muscles,  is  a ques- 
tion of  which  even  a child  may  feel  the  force,  but  which 
no  experimentalist  can  answer. 

Further,  when  we  contrast  the  physical  with  the  social 
laws  under  which  man  finds  himself  here  below,  we  must 
grant  that  Physiology  and  Social  Science  are  in  collision. 
Man  is  both  a physical  and  a social  being ; yet  he  can- 
not at  once  pursue  to  the  full  his  physical  end  and  his 
social  end,  his  physical  duties  (if  I may  so  speak)  and 
his  social  duties,  but  is  forced  to  sacrifice  in  part  one  or 
the  other.  If  we  werQ  wild  eijough  to  fancy  that  there 


/• 

464  Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation. 

were  two  creators,  one  of  whom  was  the  author  of  our 
animal  frames,  the  other  of  society,  then  indeed  we 
might  understand  how  it  comes  to  pass  that  labour  of 
mind  and  body,  the  useful  arts,  the  duties  of  a statesman, 
government,  and  the  like,  which  are  required  by  the 
social  system,  are  so  destructive  of  health,  enjoyment, 
and  life.  That  is,  in  other  words,  we  cannot  adequately 
account  for  existing  and  undeniable  truths  except  on  the 
hypothesis  of  what  we  feel  to  be  an  absurdity. 

And  so  in  Mathematical  Science,  as  has  been  often 
insisted  on,  the  philosopher  has  patiently  to  endure  the 
presence  of  truths,  which  are  not  the  less  true  for  being 
irreconcileable  with  each  other.  He  is  told  of  the  exist- 
ence of  an  infinite  number  of  curves,  which  are  able  to 
divide  a space,  into  which  no  straight  line,  though  it  be 
length  without  breadth,  can  even  enter.  He  is  told,  too, 
of  certain  lines,  which  approach  to  each  other  con- 
tinually, with  a finite  distance  between  them,  yet  never 
meet ; and  these  apparent  contrarieties  he  must  bear  as 
he  best  can,  without  attempting  to  deny  the  existence 
of  the  truths  which  constitute  them  in  the  Science  in 
question. 


4* 

Now,  let  me  call  your  attention.  Gentlemen,  to  what 
I would  infer  from  these  familiar  facts.  It  is,  to  urge 
you  with  an  argument  a fortiori:  viz.,  that,  as  you 
exercise  so  much  exemplary  patience  in  the  case  of  the 
inexplicable  truths  which  surround  so  many  departments 
of  knowledge,  human  and  divine,  viewed  in  themselves ; 
as  you  are  not  at  once  indignant,  censorious,  suspicious, 
difficult  of  belief,  on  finding  that  in  the  secular  sciences 
one  truth  is  incompatible  (according  to  our  human  in- 
tellect) with  another  or  inconsistent  with  itself ; so  you 


Christianity  and  Scuiitijic  Investigation.  465 

should  not  think  it  very  hard  to  be  told  that  there 
exists,  here  and  there,  not  an  inextricable  difficulty,  not 
an  astounding  contrariety,  not  (much  less)  a contradic- 
tion as  to  clear  facts,  between  Revelation  and  Nature  ; 
but  a hitch,  an  obscurity,  a divergence  of  tendency,  a 
temporary  antagonism,  a difference  of  tone,  between  the 
two, — that  is,  between  Catholic  opinion  on  the  one  hand, 
and  astronomy,  or  geology,  or  physiology,  or  ethnology, 
or  political  economy,  or  history,  or  antiquities,  on  the 
other.  I say  that,  as  we  admit,  because  we  are  Catho- 
lics, that  the  Divine  Unity  contains  in  it  attributes, 
which,  to  our  finite  minds,  appear  in  partial  contrariety 
with  each  other;  as  we  admit  that,  in  His  revealed 
Nature  are  things,  which,  though  not  opposed  to  Reason, 
are  infinitely  strange  to  the  Imagination  ; as  in  His  works 
we  can  neither  reject  nor  admit  the  ideas  of  space,  and 
of  time,  and  the  necessary  properties  of  lines,  without 
intellectual  distress,  or  even  torture ; really.  Gentle- 
men, I am  making  no  outrageous  request,  when,  in  the 
name  of  a University,  I ask  religious  writers,  juristSj 
economists,  physiologists,  chemists,  geologists,  and  his- 
torians, to  go  on  quietly,  and  in  a neighbourly  way,  in 
their  own  respective  lines  of  speculation,  research,  and 
experiment,  with  full  faith  in  the  consistency  of  that 
multiform  truth,  which  they  share  between  them,  in  a 
generous  confidence  that  they  will  be  ultimately  consist- 
ent, one  and  all,  in  their  combined  results,  though  there 
may  be  momentary  collisions,  awkward  appearances, 
and  many  forebodings  and  prophecies  of  contrariety,  and 
at  all  times  things  hard  to  the  Imagination,  though  not, 
I repeat,  to  the  Reason.  It  surely  is  not  asking  them  a 
great  deal  to  beg  of  them, — since  they  are  forced  to 
admit  mysteries  in  the  truths  of  Revelation,  taken  by 
themselves,  and  in  the  truths  of  Reason,  taken  by  them- 

30 


/ 


466  Christianity  and  Scientific  hivestigation. 

selves, — to  beg  of  them,  I say,  to  keep  the  peace,  to  live 
in  good  will,  and  to  exercise  equanimity,  if,  when  Nature 
and  Revelation  are  compared  with  each  other,  there  be, 
as  I have  said,  discrepancies, — not  in  the  issue,  but  in 
the  reasonings,  the  circumstances,  the  associations,  the 
anticipations,  the  accidents,  proper  to  their  respective 
teachings 

It  is  most  necessary  to  insist  seriously  and  energeti- 
cally on  this  point,  for  the  sake  of  Protestants,  for  they 
have  very  strange  notions  about  us.  In  spite  of  the 
testimony  of  history  the  other  way,  they  think  that  the 
Church  has  no  other  method  of  putting  down  error  than 
the  arm  of  force,  or  the  prohibition  of  inquiry.  They 
defy  us  to  set  up  and  carry  on  a School  of  Science.  For 
their  sake,  then,  I am  led  to  enlarge  upon  the  subject 
here.  I say,  then,  he  who  believes  Revelation  with  that 
absolute  faith  which  is  the  prerogative  of  a Catholic,  is  not 
the  nervous  creature  who  startles  at  every  sudden  sound, 
and  is  fluttered  by  every  strange  or  novel  appearance 
which  meets  his  eyes.  He  has  no  sort  of  apprehension, 
he  laughs  at  the  idea,  that  any  thing  can  be  discovered 
by  any  other  scientific  method,  which  can  contradict  any 
one  of  the  dogmas  of  his  religion.  He  knows  full  well 
there  is  no  science  whatever,  but,  in  the  course  of  its  ex- 
tension, runs  the  risk  of  infringing,  without  any  meaning 
of  offence  on  its  own  part,  the  path  of  other  sciences : 
and  he  knows  also  that,  if  there  be  any  one  science 
which,  from  its  sovereign  and  unassailable  position  can 
calmly  bear  such  unintentional  collisions  on  the  part  of 
the  children  of  earth,  it  is  Theology.  He  is  sure,  and 
nothing  shall  make  him  doubt,  that,  if  anything  seems 
to  be  proved  by  astronomer,  or  geologist,  or  chronologist, 
or  antiquarian,  or  ethnologist,  in  contradiction  to  the 
dogmas  of  faith,  that  point  will  eventually  turn  out,  first, 


Christiaiiity  and  Scientific  Investigation,  467 

not  to  be  proved,  or,  secondly,  not  contradictory,  or  thirdly, 
not  .contradictory  to  any  thing  really  revealed,  but  to 
something  which  has  been  confused  with  revelation.  And 
if,  at  the  moment,  it  appears  to  be  contradictory,  then  he 
is  content  to  wait,  knowing  that  error  is  like  other  delin- 
quents ; give  it  rope  enough,  and  it  will  be  found  to  have 
a strong  suicidal  propensity.  I do  not  mean  to  say  he 
will  not  take  his  part  in  encouraging,  in  helping  forward 
the  prospective  suicide  ; he  will  not  only  give  the  error 
rope  enough,  but  show  it  how  to  handle  and  adjust  the 
rope  ; — he  will  commit  the  matter  to  reason,  reflection, 
sober  judgment,  common  sense  ; to  Time,  the  great  in- 
terpreter of  so  many  secrets.  Instead  of  being  irritated 
at  the  momentary  triumph  of  the  foes  of  Revelation,  if 
such  a feeling  of  triumph  there  be,  and  of  hurrying  on 
a forcible  solution  of  the  difficulty,  which  may  in  the 
event  only  reduce  the  inquiry  to  an  inextricable  tangle, 
he  will  recollect  that,  in  the  order  of  Providence,  our 
seeming  dangers  are  often  our  greatest  gains;  that  in  the 
words  of  the  Protestant  poet. 

The  clouds  you  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessings  on  your  head. 

5. 

To  one  notorious  instance  indeed  it  is  obvious  to  allude 
here.  When  the  Copernican  system  first  made  progress, 
what  religious  man  would  not  have  been  tempted  to 
uneasiness,  or  at  least  fear  of  scandal,  from  the  seeming 
contradiction  which  it  involved  to  some  authoritative  tra- 
dition of  the  Church  and  the  declaration  of  Scripture  } 
It  was  generally  received,  as  if  the  Apostles  had  ex- 
pressly delivered  it  both  orally  and  in  writing,  as  a truth 
of  Revelation,  that  the  earth  was  stationary,  and  that 


468  Christianity  and  Scientijic  Investigation. 

the  sun,  fixed  in  a solid  firmament,  whirled  round  the 
earth.  After  a little  time,  however,  and  on  full  considera- 
tion, it  was  found  that  the  Church  had  decided  next  to 
nothing  on  questions  such  as  these,  and  that  Physical 
Science  might  range  in  this  sphere  of  thought  almost  at 
will,  without  fear  of  encountering  the  decisions  of  eccle- 
siastical authority.  Now,  besides  the  relief  which  it 
afforded  to  Catholics  to  find  that  they  were  to  be  spared 
this  addition,  on  the  side  of  Cosmology,  to  their  many 
controversies  already  existing,  there  is  something  of  an 
argument  in  this  very  circumstance  in  behalf  of  the 
divinity  of  their  Religion.  For  it  surely  is  a very  re- 
markable fact,  considering  how  widely  and  how  long  one 
certain  interpretation  of  these  physical  statements  in 
Scripture  had  been  received  by  Catholics,  that  the 
Church  should  not  have  formally  acknowledged  it. 
Looking  at  the  matter  in  a human  point  of  view,  it  was 
inevitable  that  she  should  have  made  that  opinion  her 
own.  But  now  we  find,  on  ascertaining  where  we  stand,  in 
the  face  of  the  new  sciences  of  these  latter  times,  that  in 
spite  of  the  bountiful  comments  which  from  the  first 
she  has  ever  been  making  on  the  sacred  text,  as  it  is  her 
duty  and  her  right  to  do,  nevertheless,  she  has  never 
been  led  formally  to  explain  the  texts  in  question,  or  to 
give  them  an  authoritative  sense  which  modern  science 
may  question. 

Nor  was  this  escape  a mere  accident,  but  rather  the 
result  of  a providential  superintendence;  as  would  ap- 
pear from  a passage  of  history  in  the  dark  age  itself. 
When  the  glorious  St.  Boniface,  Apostle  of  Germany, 
great  in  sanctity,  though  not  in  secular  knowledge,  com- 
plained to  the  Holy  See  that  St.  Virgilius  taught  the 
existence  of  the  Antipodes,  the  Holy  See  was  guided 
what  to  do ; it  did  not  indeed  side  with  the  Irish  philo- 


Christianity  a7id  Scientific  Investigation.  469 

sopher,  which  would  have  been  going  out  of  its  place,  but 
it  passed  over,  in  a matter  not  revealed,  a philosophical 
opinion. 

Time  went  on ; a new  state  of  things,  intellectual  and 
social,  came  in  ; the  Church  was  girt  with  temporal 
power  ; the  preachers  of  St.  Dominic  were  in  the  ascen- 
dant : now  at  length  we  may  ask  with  curious  interest, 
did  the  Church  alter  her  ancient  rule  of  action,  and  pro- 
scribe intellectual  activity?  Just  the  contrary;  this  is 
the  very  age  of  Universities  ; it  is  the  classical  period  of 
the  schoolmen  ; it  is  the  splendid  and  palmary  instance 
of  the  wise  policy  and  large  liberality  of  the  Church,  as 
regards  philosophical  inquiry.  If  there  ever  was  a time 
when  the  intellect  went  wild,  and  had  a licentious  revel, 
it  was  at  the  date  I speak  of.  When  was  there  ever  a 
more  curious,  more  meddling,  bolder,  keener,  more  pene- 
trating, more  rationalistic  exercise  of  the  reason  than  at 
that  time  ? What  class  of  questions . did  that  subtle, 
metaphysical  spirit  not  scrutinize  ? What  premiss  was 
allowed  without  examination  ? What  principle  was  not 
traced  to  its  first  origin,  and  exhibited  in  its  most  naked 
shape  ? What  whole  was  not  analyzed  ? What  complex 
idea  was  not  elaborately  traced  out,  and,  as  it  were,  finely 
painted  for  the  contemplation  of  the  mind,  till  it  was 
spread  out  in  all  its  minutest  portions  as  perfectly  and 
delicately  as  a frog’s  foot  shows  under  the  intense  scrutiny 
of  the  microscope  ? Well,  I repeat,  here  was  something 
which  came  somewhat  nearer  to  Theology  than  physical 
research  comes ; Aristotle  was  a somewhat  more  serious 
foe  then,  beyond  all  mistake,  than  Bacon  has  been  since. 
Did  the  Church  take  a high  hand  with  philosophy  then  ? 
No,  not  though  that  philosophy  was  metaphysical.  It 
was  a time  when  she  had  temporal  power,  and  could 
have  exterminated  the  spirit  of  inquiry  with  fire  and 


470  Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation. 

sword  ; but  she  determined  to  put  it  down  by  argument^ 
she  said:  ‘‘Two  can  play  at  that,  and  my  argument  is 
the  better/'  She  sent  her  controversialists  into  the 
philosophical  arena.  It  was  the  Dominican  and  Fran- 
ciscan doctors,  the  greatest  of  them  being  St.  Thomas, 
who  in  those  medieval  Universities  fought  the  battle  of 
Revelation  with  the  weapons  of  heathenism.  It  was  no 
matter  whose  the  weapon  was ; truth  was  truth  all  the 
world  over.  With  the  jawbone  of  an  ass,  with  the  skele- 
ton philosophy  of  pagan  Greece,  did  the  Samson  of  the 
schools  put  to  flight  his  thousand  Philistines. 

Here,  Gentlemen,  observe  the  contrast  exhibited  be- 
tween the  Church  herself,  who  has  the  gift  of  wisdom,  and 
even  the  ablest,  or  wisest,  or  holiest  of  her  children.  As 
St.  Boniface  had  been  jealous  of  physical  speculations, 
so  had  the  early  Fathers  shown  an  extreme  aversion  to 
the  great  heathen  philosopher  whom  I just  now  named, 
Aristotle.  I do.  not  know  who  of  them  could  endure 
him  ; and  when  there  arose  those  in  the  middle  age  who 
would  take  his  part,  especially  since  their  intentions 
were  of  a suspicious  character,  a strenuous  effort  was 
made  to  banish  him  out  of  Christendom.  The  Church 
the  while  had  kept  silence ; she  had  as  little  denounced 
heathen  philosophy  in  the  mass  as  she  had  pronounced 
upon  the  meaning  of  certain  texts  of  Scripture  of  a 
cosmological  character.  From  Tertullian  and  Caius  to 
the  two  Gregories  of  Cappadocia,  from  them  to  Anasta- 
sius  Sinaita,  from  him  to  the  school  of  Paris,  Aristotle 
was  a word  of  offence ; at  length  St.  Thomas  made  him 
a hewer  of  wood  and  drawer  of  water  to  the  Church.  A 
strong  slave  he  is  ; and  the  Church  herself  has  given  her 
sanction  to  the  use  in  Theology  of  the  ideas  and  terms 
of  his  philosophy. 


Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation.  471 


6. 

Now,  while  this  free  discussion  is,  to  say  the  least,  so 
safe  for  Religion,  or  rather  so  expedient,  it  is  on  the  other 
hand  simply  necessary  for  progress  in  Science  ; and  I 
shall  now  go  on  to  insist  on  this  side  of  the  subject. 
I say,  then,  that  it  is  a matter  of  primary  importance  in 
the  cultivation  of  those  sciences,  in  which  truth  is  dis- 
coverable by  the  human  intellect,  that  the  investigator 
should  be  free,  independent, unshackled  in  his  movements; 
that  he  should  be  allowed  and  enabled,  without  impedi- 
ment, to  fix  his  mind  intently,  nay,  exclusively,  on  his 
special  object,  without  the  risk  of  being  distracted  every 
other  minute  in  the  process  and  progress  of  his  inquiry, 
by  charges  of  temerariousness,  or  by  warnings  against 
extravagance  or  scandal.  But  in  thus  speaking,  I must 
premise  several  explanations,  lest  I be  misunderstood. 

First,  then.  Gentlemen,  as  to  the  fundamental  principles 
of  religion  and  morals,  and  again  as  to  the  fundamental 
principles  of  Christianity,  or  what  are  called  the  dogmas 
of  faith, — as  to  this  double  creed,  natural  and  revealed, 
— we,  none  of  us,  should  say  that  it  is  any  shackle  at  all 
upon  the  intellect  to  maintain  these  inviolate.  Indeed, 
a Catholic  cannot  put  off  his  thought  of  them  ; and  they 
as  little  impede  the  movements  of  his  intellect  as  the  laws 
of  physics  impede  his  bodily  movements.  The  habitual 
apprehension  of  them  has  become  a second  nature  with 
him,  as  the  laws  of  optics,  hydrostatics,  dynamics,  are 
latent  conditions  which  he  takes  for  granted  in  the 
use  of  his  corporeal  organs.  I am  not  supposing  any 
collision  with  dogma,  I am  but  speaking  of  opinions  of 
divines,  or  of  the  multitude,  parallel  to  those  in  former 
times  of  the  sun  going  round  the  earth,  or  of  the  last  day 


472  Christimiity  and  Scientific  Investigation. 

being  close  at  hand,  or  of  St.  Dionysius  the  Areopagite 
being  the  author  of  the  works  which  bear  his  name. 

Nor,  secondly,  even  as  regards  such  opinions,  am  I 
supposing  any  direct  intrusion  into  the  province  of  religion, 
or  of  a teacher  of  Science  actually  laying  down  the  law 
in  a matter  of  Religion  ; but  of  such  unintentional  colli- 
sions as  are  incidental  to  a discussion  pursued  on  some 
subject  of  his  own.  It  would  be  a great  mistake  in  such 
a one  to  propose  his  philosophical  or  historical  conclusions 
as  the  formal  interpretation  of  the  sacred  text,  as  Galileo 
is  said  to  have  done,  instead  of  being  content  to  hold  his 
doctrine  of  the  motion  of  the  earth  as  a scientific  con- 
clusion, and  leaving  it  to  those  whom  it  really  concerned 
to  compare  it  with  Scripture.  And,  it  must  be  confessed, 
Gentlemen,  not  a few  instances  occur  of  this  mistake  at 
the  present  day,  on  the  part,  not  indeed  of  men  of  science, 
but  of  religious  men,  who,  from  a nervous  impatience  lest 
Scripture  should  for  one  moment  seem  inconsistent  with 
the  results  of  some  speculation  of  the  hour,  are  ever  pro- 
posing geological  or  ethnological  comments  upon  it,  which 
they  have  to  alter  or  obliterate  before  the  ink  is  well  dry, 
from  changes  in  the  progressive  science,  which  they  have 
so  officiously  brought  to  its  aid. 

And  thirdly,  I observe  that,  when  I advocate  the  in- 
dependence of  philosophical  thought,  I am  not  speaking 
of  any  formal  teaching  at  all,  but  of  investigations,  specu- 
lations, and  discussions.  I am  far  indeed  from  allowing, 
in  any  matter  which  even  borders  on  Religion,  what  an 
eminent  Protestant  divine  has  advocated  on  the  most 
sacred  subjects, — I mean  ‘‘the  liberty  of  Prophesying.'^ 
I have  no  wish  to  degrade  the  professors  of  Science,  who 
ought  to  be  Prophets  of  the  Truth,  into  mere  advertisers 
of  crude  fancies  or  notorious  absurdities.  I am  not  plead- 
ing that  they  should  ^t  random  shower  down  upon  their 


Christianity  and  Scu7itific  Investigation,  473 

hearers  ingenuities  and  novelties  ; or  that  they  should 
teach  even  what  has  a basis  of  truth  in  it,  in  a brilliant, 
off-hand  way,  to  a collection  of  youths,  who  may  not 
perhaps  hear  them  for  six  consecutive  lectures,  and  who 
will  carry  away  with  them  into  the  country  a misty  idea 
of  the  half-created  theories  of  some  ambitious  intellect. 

Once  more,  as  the  last  sentence  suggests,  there  must 
be  great  care  taken  to  avoid  scandal,  or  shocking  the 
popular  mind,  or  unsettling  the  weak  ; the  association 
between  truth  and  error  being  so  strong  in  particular 
minds  that  it  is  impossible  to  weed  them  of  the  error 
without  rooting  up  the  wheat  with  it.  If,  then,  there  is 
the  chance  of  any  current  religious  opinion  being  in  any 
way  compromised  in  the  course  of  a scientific  investiga- 
tion, this  would  be  a reason  for  conducting  it,  not  in  light 
ephemeral  publications,  which  come  into  the  hands  of 
the  careless  or  ignorant,  but  in  works  of  a grave  and 
business-like  character,  answering  to  the  medieval  schools 
of  philosophical  disputation,  which,  removed  as  they  were 
from  the  region  of  popular  thought  and  feeling,  have,  by 
their  vigorous  restlessness  of  inquiry,  in  spite  of  their 
extravagances,  done  so  much  for  theological  precision, 

7- 

I am  not,  then,  supposing  the  scientific  investigator  (i) 
to  be  coming  into  coliision  with  dogma  ; nor  (2)  venturing, 
by  means  of  his  investigations,  upon  any  interpretation 
of  Scripture,  or  upon  other  conclusion  in  the  matter  of 
retigio7i ; nor  (3)  of  his  teaching,  even  in  his  own  science, 
religious  parodoxes,  when  he  should  be  investigating 
and  proposing  ; nor  (4)  of  his  recklessly  scandalizmg  the 
weak ; but,  these  explanations  being  made,  I still  say 
that  a scientific  speculator  or  inquirer  is  not  bound,  in 
conducting  his  researches,  to  be  every  moment  adjusting 


474  Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation. 

his  course  by  the  maxims  of  the  schools  or  by  popular 
traditions,  or  by  those  of  any  other  science  distinct  from 
his  own,  or  to  be  ever  narrowly  watching  what  those 
external  sciences  have  to  say  to  him,  or  to  be  determined 
to  be  edifying,  or  to  be  ever  answering  heretics  and  un- 
believers ; being  confident,  from  the  impulse  of  a generous 
faith,  that,  however  his  line  of  investigation  may  swerve 
now  and  then,  and  vary  to  and  fro  in  its  course,  or 
threaten  momentary  collision  or  embarrassment  with 
any  other  department  of  knowledge,  theological  or  not, 
yet,  if  he  lets  it  alone,  it  will  be  sure  to  come  home, 
because  truth  never  can  really  be  contrary  to  truth,  and 
because  often  what  at  first  sight  is  an  “ exceptio,’'  in  the 
event  most  emphatically  probat  regulam.” 

This  is  a point  of  serious  importance  to  him.  Unless  he 
is  at  liberty  to  investigate  on  the  basis,  and  according  to 
the  peculiarities,  of  his  science,  he  cannot  investigate  at 
all.  It  is  the  very  law  of  the  human  mind  in  its  inquiry 
after  and  acquisition  of  truth  to  make  its  advances  by  a 
process  which  consists  of  many  stages,  and  is  circuitous. 
There  are  no  short  cuts  to  knowledge  ; nor  does  the  road 
to  it  always  lie  in  the  direction  in  which  it  terminates, 
nor  are  we  able  to  see  the  end  on  starting.  It  may  often 
seem  to  be  diverging  from  a goal  into  which  it  will  soon 
run  without  effort,  if  we  are  but  patient  and  resolute  in 
following  it  out ; and,  as  we  are  told  in  Ethics  to  gain 
the  mean  merely  by  receding  from  both  extremes,  so  in 
scientific  researches  error  may  be  said,  without  a paradox, 
to  be  in  some  instances  the  way  to  truth,  and  the  only 
way.  Moreover,  it  is  not  often  the  fortune  of  any  one 
man  to  live  through  an  investigation  ; the  process  is  one 
of  not  only  many  stages,  but  of  many  minds.  What 
one  begins  another  finishes  ; and  a true  conclusion  is  at 
length  worked  out  by  the  co-operation  of  independent 


Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation,  475 

schools  and  the  perseverance  of  successive  generations. 
This  being  the  case,  we  are  obliged,  under  circum^ 
stances,  to  bear  for  a while  with  what  we  feel  to  be  error, 
in  consideration  of  the  truth  in  which  it  is  eventually  to 
issue. 

The  analogy  of  locomotion  is  most  pertinent  here. 
No  one  can  go  straight  up  a mountain;  no  sailing  vessel 
makes  for  its  port  without  tacking.  And  so,  applying 
the  illustration,  we  can  indeed,  if  we  will,  refuse  to  allow 
of  investigation  or  research  altogether  ; but,  if  we  invite 
reason  to  take  its  place  in  our  schools,  we  must  let  reason 
have  fair  and  full  play.  If  we  reason,  we  must  submit 
to  the  conditions  of  reason.  We  cannot  use  it  by  halves; 
we  must  use  it  as  proceeding  from  Him  who  has  also 
given  us  Revelation  ; and  to  be  ever  interrupting  its 
processes,  and  diverting  its  attention  by  objections 
brought  from  a higher  knowledge,  is  parallel  to  a lands- 
man’s dismay  at  the  changes  in  the  course  of  a vessel  on 
which  he  has  deliberately  embarked,  and  argues  surely 
some  distrust  either  in  the  powers  of  Reason  on  the  one 
hand,  or  the  certainty  of  Revealed  Truth  on  the  other. 
The  passenger  should  not  have  embarked  at  all,  if  he 
did  not  reckon  on  the  chance  of  a rough  sea,  of  currents, 
of  wind  and  tide,  of  rocks  and  shoals  ; and  we  should 
act  more  wisely  in  discountenancing  altogether  the  exer- 
cise of  Reason  than  in  being  alarmed  and  impatient 
under  the  suspense,  delay,  and  anxiety  which,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  may  be  found  to  attach  to  it.  Let 
us  eschew  secular  history,  and  science,  and  philosophy 
for  good  and  all,  if  we  are  not  allowed  to  be  sure  that 
Revelation  is  so  true  that  the  altercations  and  perplexi- 
ties of  human  opinion  cannot  really  or  eventually  injure 
its  authority.  That  is  no  intellectual  triumph  of  any 
truth  of  Religion,  which  has  not  been  preceded  by  a full 


476  Christiajiiiy  a7id  Scientific  Investigatio7i. 

statement  of  what  can  be  said  against  it ; it  is  but  the 
ego  vapulando,  ille  verberando,  of  the  Comedy. 

Great  minds  need  elbow-room,  not  indeed  in  the 
domain  of  faith,  but  of  thought.  And  so  indeed  do  lessei 
minds,  and  all  minds.  There  are  many  persons  in  the 
world  who  are  called,  and  with  a great  deal  of  truth, 
geniuses.  They  had  been  gifted  by  nature  with  some 
particular  faculty  or  capacity  ; and,  while  vehemently 
excited  and  imperiously  ruled  by  it,  they  are  blind  to 
everything  else.  They  are  enthusiasts  in  their  own  line, 
and  are  simply  dead  to  the  beauty  of  any  line  except 
their  own.  Accordingly,  they  think  their  own  line  the 
only  line  in  the  whole  world  worth  pursuing,  and  they 
feel  a sort  of  contempt  for  such  studies  as  move  upon 
any  other  line.  Now,  these  men  may  be,  and  often  are, 
very  good  Catholics,  and  have  not  a dream  of  any  thing 
but  affection  and  deference  towards  Catholicity,  nay, 
perhaps  are  zealous  in  its  interests.  Yet,  if  you  insist 
that  in  their  speculations,  researches,  or  conclusions  in 
their  particular  science,  it  is  not  enough  that  they  should 
submit  to  the  Church  generally,  and  acknowledge  its 
dogmas,  but  that  they  must  get  up  all  that  divines  have 
said  or  the  multitude  believed  upon  religious  matters, 
you  simply  crush  and  stamp  out  the  flame  within  them, 
and  they  can  do  nothing  at  all. 

This  is  the  case  of  men  of  genius  : now  one  word  on 
the  contrary  in  behalf  of  master  minds,  gifted  with  a 
broad  philosophical  view  of  things,  and  a creative  power, 
and  a versatility  capable  of  accommodating  itself  to 
various  provinces  of  thought.  These  persons  perhaps, 
like  those  I have  already  spoken  of,  take  up  some  idea 
and  are  intent  upon  it ; — some  deep,  prolific,  eventful 
idea,  which  grows  upon  them,  till  they  develop  it  into  a 
great  system.  Now,  if  any  such  thinker  starts  from 


Christia7iity  and  Scientific  Investigation.  477 

radically  unsound  principles,  or  aims  at  directly  false 
conclusions,  if  he  be  a Hobbes,  or  a Shaftesbury,  or  a 
Hume,  or  a Bentham,  then,  of  course,  there  is  an  end  of 
the  whole  matter.  He  is  an  opponent  of  Revealed 
Truth,  and  he  means  to  be  so ; — nothing  more  need  be 
said.  But  perhaps  it  is  not  so ; perhaps  his  errors  are 
those  which  are  inseparable  accidents  of  his  system  or 
of  his  mind,  and  are  spontaneously  evolved,  not  perti- 
naciously defended.  Every  human  system,  every  human 
writer,  is  open  to  just  criticism.  Make  him  shut  up  his 
portfolio  ; good  ! and  then  perhaps  you  lose  what,  on 
the  whole  and  in  spite  of  incidental  mistakes,  would 
have  been  one  of  the  ablest  defences  of  Revealed  Truth 
(directly  or  indirectly,  according  to  his  subject)  ever 
given  to  the  world. 

This  is  how  I should  account  for  a circumstance,  which 
has  sometimes  caused  surprise,  that  so  many  great 
Catholic  thinkers  have  in  some  points  or  other  incurred 
the  criticism  or  animadversion  of  theologians  or  of  eccle- 
siastical authority.  It  must  be  so  in  the  nature  of 
things  ; there  is  indeed  an  animadversion  which  implies 
a condemnation  of  the  author ; but  there  is  another 
which  means  not  much  more  than  the  pi^  legendum 
written  against  passages  in  the  Fathers.  The  author 
may  not  be  to  blame;  yet  the  ecclesiastical  authority 
would  be  to  blame,  if  it  did  not  give  notice  of  his  im- 
perfections. I do  not  know  what  Catholic  would  not 
hold  the  name  of  Malebranche  in  veneration  ; * but  he 
may  have  accidentally  come  into  collision  with  theolo- 
gians, or  made  temerarious  assertions,  notwithstanding. 

* Cardinal  Gerdil  speaks  of  his  “ Metaphysique,  ” as  “brillante  alaverite, 
mais  non  moins  solide”  (p.  9.),  and  that  “la  liaison  qui  enchaine  toutes  les 
parties  du  systeme  philosophique  du  Pere  Malebranche,  . . pourra  servir 
d’apologie  a la  noble  assurance,  avec  laquelle  il  propose  ses  sentiments.” 
(p-  A 2,  CEuvres,  t.  iv.) 


478  Christia7iity  and  Scientific  Investigation. 

The  practical  question  is,  whether  he  had  not  much 
better  have  written  as  he  has  written,  than  not  have 
written  at  all.  And  so  fully  is  the  Holy  See  accustomed 
to  enter  into  this  view  of  the  matter,  that  it  has  allowed 
of  its  application,  not  only  to  philosophical,  but  even  to 
theological  and  ecclesiastical  authors,  who  do  not  come 
within  the  range  of  these  remarks.  I believe  I am  right 
in  saying  that,  in  the  case  of  three  great  names,  in 
various  departments  of  learning.  Cardinal  Noris,  Bossuet, 
and  Muratori,*  while  not  concealing  its  sense  of  their 
having  propounded  each  what  might  have  been  said 
better,  nevertheless  it  has  considered,  that  their  services 
to  Religion  were  on  the  whole  far  too  important  to  allow 
of  their  being  molested  by  critical  observation  in  detail. 

8. 

And  now.  Gentlemen,  I bring  these  remarks  to  a con- 
clusion. What  I would  urge  upon  every  one,  whatever 
may  be  his  particular  line  of  research, — what  I would 
urge  upon  men  of  Science  in  their  thoughts  of  Theology, 
— what  I would  venture  to  recommend  to  theologians, 
when  their  attention  is  drawn  to  the  subject  of  scientific 
investigations, — is  a great  and  firm  belief  in  the  sove- 
reignty of  Truth.  Error  may  flourish  for  a time,  but 
Truth  will  prevail  in  the  end.  The  only  effect  of  error 
ultimately  is  to  promote  Truth.  Theories,  speculations, 
hypotheses,  are  started  ; perhaps  they  are  to  die,  still 
not  before  they  have  suggested  ideas  better  than  them- 
selves. These  better  ideas  are  taken  up  in  turn  by  other 
men,  and,  if  they  do  not  yet  lead  to  truth,  nevertheless 
they  lead  to  what  is  still  nearer  to  truth  than  themselves  ; 
and  thus  knowledge  on  the  whole  makes  progress.  The 

* Muratori’s  work  was  not  directly  theological.  Vid,  note  at  the  end  of 
the  Volume. 


Christianity  and  Scientific  Investigation,  479 

errors  of  some  minds  in  scientific  investigation  are  more 
fruitful  than  the  truths  of  others.  A Science  seems 
making  no  progress,  but  to  abound  in  failures,  yet  im- 
perceptibly all  the  time  it  is  advancing,  and  it  is  of 
course  a gain  to  truth  even  to  have  learned  what  is  not 
true,  if  nothing  more. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  of  course  remembered, 
Gentlemen,  that  I am  supposing  all  along  good  faith, 
honest  intentions,  a loyal  Catholic  spirit,  and  a deep 
sense  of  responsibility.  I am  supposing,  in  the  scientific 
inquirer,  a due  fear  of  giving  scandal,  of  seeming  to 
countenance  views  which  he  does  not  really  countenance, 
and  of  siding  with  parties  from  whom  he  heartily  differs. 
I am  supposing  that  he  is  fully  alive  to  the  existence 
and  the  power  of  the  infidelity  of  the  age  ; that  he 
keeps  in  mind  the  moral  weakness  and  the  intellectual 
confusion  of  the  majority  of  men  ; and  that  he  has  no 
wish  at  all  that  any  one  soul  should  get  harm  from 
certain  speculations  to-day,  though  he  may  have  the 
satisfaction  of  being  sure  that  those  speculations  will,  as 
far  as  they  are  erroneous  or  misunderstood,  be  corrected 
in  the  course  of  the  next  half-century. 


480 


IX 

DISCIPLINE  OF  MIND. 

AN  ADDRESS  TO  THE  EVENING  CLASSES. 


I. 

WHEN  I found  that  it  was  in  my  power  to  be  pre- 
sent here  at  the  commencement  of  the  new  Ses- 
sion, one  of  the  first  thoughts,  Gentlemen,  which  thereupon 
occurred  to  me,  was  this,  that  I should  in  consequence 
have  the  great  satisfaction  of  meeting  you,  of  whom  I 
had  thought  and  heard  so  much,  and  the  opportunity  of 
addressing  you,  as  Rector  of  the  University.  I can  truly 
say  that  I thought  of  you  before  you  thought  of  the 
University  ; perhaps  I may  say,  long  before  ; — for  it  was 
previously  to  our  commencing  that  great  work,  which  is 
now  so  fully  before  the  public,  it  was  when  I first  came 
over  here  to  make  preparations  for  it,  that  I had  to 
encounter  the  serious  objection  of  wise  and  good  men, 
who  said  to  me,  There  is  no  class  of  persons  in  Ireland 
who  need  a University;*'  and  again,  “Whom  will  you 
^et  to  belong  to  it  ? who  will  fill  its  lecture-rooms  ? " 
This  was  said  to  me,  and  then,  without  denying  their 
knowledge  of  the  state  of  Ireland,  or  their  sagacity,  I 
made  answer,  “ We  will  give  lectures  in  the  evening,  we 
will  fill  our  classes  with  the  young  men  of  Dublin." 

And  some  persons  here  may  recollect  that  the  very 


48 1 


Discipline  of  Mind. 

first  thing  I did,  when  we  opened  the  School  of  Philoso- 
phy and  Letters,  this  time  four  years,  was  to  institute  a 
system  of  Evening  Lectures,  which  were  suspended  after 
a while,  only  because  the  singularly  inclement  season 
which  ensued,  and  the  want  of  publicity  and  interest 
incident  to  a new  undertaking,  made  them  premature. 
And  it  is  a satisfaction  to  me  to  reflect  that  the  Statute, 
under  which  you  will  be  able  to  pass  examinations  and 
take  degrees,  is  one  to  which  I specially  obtained  the 
consent  of  the  Academical  Senate,  nearly  two  years  ago, 
in  addition  to  our  original  Regulations,  and  that  you 
will  be  the  first  persons  to  avail  yourselves  of  it. 

Having  thus  prepared,  as  it  were,  the  University  for 
you,  it  was  with  great  pleasure  that  I received  from  a 
number  of  you,  Gentlemen,  last  May  year,  a spontaneous 
request  which  showed  that  my  original  anticipations  were 
not  visionary.  You  suggested  then  what  we  have  since 
acted  upon, — acted  upon,  not  so  quickly  as  both  you 
might  hope  and  we  might  wish,  because  all  important 
commencements  have  to  be  maturely  considered — still 
acted  on  at  length  according  to  those  anticipations  of 
mine,  to  which  I have  referred ; and,  while  I recur  to 
them  as  an  introduction  to  what  I have  to  say,  I might 
also  dwell  upon  them  as  a sure  presage  that  other  and 
broader  anticipations,  too  bold  as  they  may  seem  now, 
will,  if  we  are  but  patient,  have  their  fulfilment  in  their 
season. 


2. 

For  I should  not  be  honest.  Gentlemen,  if  I did  not 
confess  that,  much  as  I desire  that  this  University 
should  be  of  service  to  the  young  men  of  Dublin,  I do 
not  desire  this  benefit  to  you,  simply  for  your  own  sakes. 
For  your  own  sakes  certainly  I wish  it,  but  not  on  your 

3X 


482 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


account  only.  Man  is  not  born  for  himself  alone,  as  the 
classical  moralist  tells  us.  You  are  born  for  Ireland  ; 
and,  in  your  advancement,  Ireland  is  advanced  ; — in 
your  advancement  in  what  is  good  and  what  is  true,  in 
knowledge,  in  learning,  in  cultivation  of  mind,  in  enlight- 
ened attachment  to  your  religion,  in  good  name  and 
respectability  and  social  influence,  I am  contemplating 
the  honour  and  renown,  the  literary  and  scientific  aggran- 
disement, the  increase  of  political  power,  of  the  Island 
of  the  Saints. 

I go  further  still.  If  I do  homage  to  the  many  virtues 
and  gifts  of  the  Irish  people,  and  am  zealous  for  their 
full  development,  it  is  not  simply  for  the  sake  of  them- 
selves, but  because  the  name  of  Ireland  ever  has  been, 
and,  I believe,  ever  will  be,  associated  with  the  Catholic 
Faith,  and  because,  in  doing  any  service,  however  poor  it 
may  be,  to  Ireland,  a man  is  ministering,  in  his  own 
place  and  measure,  to  the  cause  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Apostolic  Church. 

Gentlemen,  I should  consider  it  an  impertinence  in 
me  thus  to  be  speaking  to  you  of  myself,  were  it  not 
that,  in  recounting  to  you  the  feelings  with  which  I have 
witnessed  the  establishment  of  these  Evening  Classes,  I 
am  in  fact  addressing  to  you  at  the  same  time  words  of 
encouragement  and  advice,  such  words  as  it  becomes  a 
Rector  to  use  in  speaking  to  those  who  are  submitted  to 
his  care. 

I say,  then,  that,  had  I been  younger  than  I was  when 
the  high  office  which  I at  present  hold  was  first  offered 
to  me,  had  I not  had  prior  duties  upon  me  of  affection 
and  devotion  to  the  Oratory  of  St.  Philip,  and  to  my 
own  dear  country,  no  position  whatever,  in  the  whole 
range  of  administrations  which  are  open  to  the  ambition 
of  those  who  wish  to  serve  God  in  their  generation,  and 


Discipline  oj  Mind, 


483 


to  do  some  great  work  before  they  die,  would  have  had 
more  attractions  for  me  than  that  of  being  at  the  head 
of  a University  like  this.  When  I became  a Catholic,  one 
of  my  first  questions  was,  ‘'Why  have  not  our  Catholics  a 
University.^”  and  Ireland,  and  the  metropolis  of  Ireland, 
was  obviously  the  proper  seat  of  such  an  institution. 

Ireland  is  the  proper  seat  of  a Catholic  University,  on 
account  of  its  ancient  hereditary  Catholicity,  and  again 
of  the  future  which  is  in  store  for  it.  It  is  impossible, 
Gentlemen,  to  doubt  that  a future  is  in  store  for  Ireland, 
for  more  reasons  than  can  here  be  enumerated.  First, 
there  is  the  circumstance,  so  highly  suggestive,  even  if 
there  was  nothing  else  to  be  said,  viz.,  that  the  Irish 
have  been  so  miserably  ill-treated  and  misused  hitherto ; 
for,  in  the  times  now  opening  upon  us,  nationalities  are 
waking  into  life,  and  the  remotest  people  can  make 
themselves  heard  into  all  the  quarters  of  the  earth.  The 
lately  invented  methods  of  travel  and  of  intelligence 
have  destroyed  geographical  obstacles  ; and  the  wrongs 
of  the  oppressed,  in  spite  of  oceans  or  of  mountains,  are 
brought  under  the  public  opinion  of  Europe, — not  before 
kings  and  governments  alone,  but  before  the  tribunal  of 
the  European  populations,  who  are  becoming  ever  more 
powerful  in  the  determination  of  political  questions.  And 
thus  retribution  is  demanded  and  exacted  for  past  crimes 
in  proportion  to  their  heinousness  and  their  duration. 

And  in  the  next  place,  it  is  plain  that,  according  as 
intercommunion  grows  between  Europe  and  America,  it 
is  Ireland  that  must  grow  with  it  in  social  and  political 
importance.  For  Ireland  is  the  high  road  by  which  that 
intercourse  is  carried  on  ; and  the  traffic  between  hemi- 
spheres must  be  to  her  a source  of  material  as  well  as 
social  benefit, — as  of  old  time,  though  on  the  minute 
geographical  scale  of  Greece,  Corinth,  as  being  the 


484 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


thoroughfare  of  commerce  by  sea  and  land,  became  and 
was  called  the  rich.” 

And  then,  again,  we  must  consider  the  material  re- 
sources of  Ireland,  so  insufficiently  explored,  so  poorly 
developed, — of  which  it  belongs  to  them  rather  to  speak, 
who  by  profession  and  attainments  are  masters  of  the 
subject. 

That  this  momentous  future,  thus  foreshadowed,  will 
be  as  glorious  for  Catholicity  as  for  Ireland  we  cannot 
doubt  from  the  experience  of  the  past ; but,  as  Provi- 
dence works  by  means  of  human  agencies,  that  natural 
anticipation  has  no  tendency  to  diminish  the  anxiety  and 
earnestness  of  all  zealous  Catholics  to  do  their  part  in 
securing  its  fulfilment.  And  the  wise  and  diligent  culti- 
vation of  the  intellect  is  one  principal  means,  under  the 
Divine  blessing,  of  the  desired  result. 

3- 

Gentlemen,  the  seat  of  this  intellectual  progress  must 
necessarily  be  the  great  towns  of  Ireland  ; and  those 
great  towns  have  a remarkable  and  happy  characteristic, 
as  contrasted  with  the  cities  of  Catholic  Europe.  Abroad, 
even  in  Catholic  countries,  if  there  be  in  any  part  of 
their  territory  scepticism  and  insubordination  in  religion, 
cities  are  the  seat  of  the  mischief  Even  Rome  itself 
has  its  insubordinate  population,  and  its  concealed  free- 
thinkers ; even  Belgium,  that  nobly  Catholic  country, 
cannot  boast  of  the  religious  loyalty  of  its  great  towns. 
Such  a calamity  is  unknown  to  the  Catholicism  of  Dublin, 
Cork,  Belfast,  and  the  other  cities  of  Ireland  ; for,  to  say 
nothing  of  higher  and  more  religious  causes  of  the  dif- 
ference, the  very  presence  of  a rival  religion  is  a per- 
petual incentive  to  faith  and  devotion  in  men  Avho,  from 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  would  be  in  danger  of 


Discipline  0/ Mind.  485 

becoming  worse  than  lax  Catholics,  unless  they  resolved 
on  being  zealous  ones. 

Here,  then,  is  one  remarkable  ground  of  promise  in 
the  future  of  Ireland,  that  that  large  and  important  class, 
members  of  which  I am  now  addressing, — that  the 
middle  classes  in  its  cities,  which  will  be  the  depositaries 
of  its  increasing  political  power,  and  which  elsewhere  are 
opposed  in  their  hearts  to  the  Catholicism  which  they 
profess, — are  here  so  sound  in  faith,  and  so  exemplary 
in  devotional  exercises,  and  in  works  of  piety. 

And  next  I would  observe,  that,  while  thus  distin- 
guished for  religious  earnestness,  the  Catholic  population 
is  in  no  respect  degenerate  from  the  ancient  fame  of 
Ireland  as  regards  its  intellectual  endowments.  It  too 
often  happens  that  the  religiously  disposed  are  in  the 
same  degree  intellectually  deficient ; but  the  Irish  ever 
have  been,  as  their  worst  enemies  must  grant,  not  only  a 
Catholic  people,  but  a people  of  great  natural  abilities, 
keen-witted,  original,  and  subtle.  This  has  been  the 
characteristic  of  the  nation  from  the  very  early  times, 
and  was  especially  prominent  in  the  middle  ages.  As 
Rome  was  the  centre  of  authority,  so,  I may  say,  Ire- 
land was  the  native  home  of  speculation.  In  this  respect 
they  were  as  remarkably  contrasted  to  the  English  as  they 
are  now,  though,  in  those  ages,  England  was  as  devoted 
to  the  Holy  See  as  it  is  now  hostile.  The  Englishman 
was  hard-working,  plodding,  bold,  determined,  persever- 
ing, practical,  obedient  to  law  and  precedent,  and,  if  he 
cultivated  his  mind,  he  was  literary  and  classical  rather 
than  scientific,  for  Literature  involves  in  it  the  idea  of 
authority  and  prescription.  On  the  other  hand,  in  Ire- 
land, the  intellect  seems  rather  to  have  taken  the  line  of 
Science,  and  we  have  various  instances  to  show  how  fully 
this  was  recognized  in  those  times,  and  with  what  success  it 


4^6  Discipline  of  Mind. 

was  carried  out.  ‘‘Philosopher/'  is  in  those  times  almost 
the  name  for  an  Irish  monk.  Both  in  Paris  and  Oxford, 
the  two  great  schools  of  medieval  thought,  we  find  the 
boldest  and  most  subtle  of  their  disputants  an  Irishman, 
— the  monk  John  Scotus  Erigena,  at  Paris,  and  Duns 
Scotus,  the  Franciscan  friar,  at  Oxford. 

Now,  it  is  my  belief.  Gentlemen,  that  this  character  of 
mind  remains  in  you  still.  I think  I rightly  recognize  in 
the  Irishman  now,  as  formerly,  the  curious,  inquisitive 
observer,  the  acute  reasoner,  the  subtle  speculator.  I 
recognize  in  you  talents  which  are  fearfully  mischievous, 
when  used  on  the  side  of  error,  but  which,  when  wielded 
by  Catholic  devotion,  such  as  I am  sure  will  ever  be  the 
characteristic  of  the  Irish  disputant,  are  of  the  highest  im- 
portance to  Catholic  interests,  and  especially  at  this  day, 
when  a subtle  logic  is  used  against  the  Church,  and  de- 
mands a logic  still  more  subtle  on  the  part  of  her  defenders 
to  expose  it. 

Gentlemen,  I do  not  expect  those  who,  like  you,  are 
employed  in  your  secular  callings,  who  are  not  monks  or 
friars,  not  priests,  not  theologians,  not  philosophers,  to 
come  forward  as  champions  of  the  faith  ; but  I think 
that  incalculable  benefit  may  ensue  to  the  Catholic  cause, 
greater  almost  than  that  which  even  singularly  gifted 
theologians  or  controversialists  could  effect,  if  a body  of 
men  in  your  station  of  life  shall  be  found  in  the  great  towns 
of  Ireland,  not  disputatious,  contentious,  loquacious,  pre- 
sumptuous (of  course  I am  not  advocating  inquiry  for 
mere  argument's  sake),  but  gravely  and  solidly  educated 
in  Catholic  knowledge,  intelligent,  acute,  versed  in  their 
religion,  sensitive  of  its  beauty  and  majesty,  alive  to  the 
arguments  in  its  behalf,  and  aware  both  of  its  difficulties 
and  of  the  mode  of  treating  them.  And  the  first  step  in 
attaining  this  desirable  end  is  that  you  should  submit 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


487 


yourselves  to  a curriculum  of  studies,  such  as  that  which 
brings  you  with  such  praiseworthy  diligence  within  these 
walls  evening  after  evening ; and,  though  you  may  not 
be  giving  attention  to  them  with  this  view,  but  from  the 
laudable  love  of  knowledge,  or  for  the  advantages  which 
will  accrue  to  you  personally  from  its  pursuit,  yet  my 
own  reason  for  rejoicing  in  the  establishment  of  your 
classes  is  the  same  as  that  which  led  me  to  take  part 
in  the  establishment  of  the  University  itself,  viz.,  the 
wish,  by  increasing  the  intellectual  force  of  Ireland,  to 
strengthen  the  defences,  in  a day  of  great  danger,  of  the 
Christian  religion. 


4. 

Gentlemen,  within  the  last  thirty  years,  there  has  been, 
as  you  know,  a great  movement  in  behalf  of  the  exten- 
sion of  knowledge  among  those  classes  in  society  whom 
you  represent.  This  movement  has  issued  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  what  have  been  called  Mechanics'  Institutes 
through  the  United  Kingdom  ; and  a new  species  of 
literature  has  been  brought  into  existence,  with  a view, 
among  its  objects,  of  furnishing  the  members  of  these 
institutions  with  interesting  and  instructive  reading.  I 
never  will  deny  to  that  literature  its  due  praise.  It  has 
been  the  production  of  men  of  the  highest  ability  and 
the  most  distinguished  station,  who  have  not  grudged, 
moreover,  the  trouble,  and,  I may  say  in  a certain  sense, 
the  condescension,  of  presenting  themselves  before  the 
classes  for  whose  intellectual  advancement  they  were 
showing  so  laudable  a zeal  ; who  have . not  grudged,  in 
the  cause  of  Literature,  History,  or  Science,  to  make  a 
display,  in  the  lecture  room  or  the  public  hall,  of  that 
eloquence,  which  was,  strictly  speaking,  the  property,  as 
I may  call  it,  of  Parliament,  or  of  the  august  tribunals  of 


488 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


the  Law.  Nor  will  I deny  to  the  speaking  and  writing, 
to  which  I am  referring,  the  merit  of  success,  as  well  as 
that  of  talent  and  good  intention,  so  far  as  this, — that  it 
has  provided  a fund  of  innocent  amusement  and  informa- 
tion for  the  leisure  hours  of  those  who  might  otherwise 
have  been  exposed  to  the  temptation  of  corrupt  reading 
or  bad  company. 

So  much  may  be  granted, — and  must  be  granted  in 
candour : but,  when  I go  on  to  ask  myself  the  question, 
what  permanent  advantage  the  mind  gets  by  such  desul- 
tory reading  and  hearing,  as  this  literary  movement  en- 
courages, then  I find  myself  altogether  in  a new  field  of 
thought,  and  am  obliged  to  return  an  answer  less  favour- 
able than  I could  wish  to  those  who  are  the  advocates  of 
it.  We  must  carefully  distinguish.  Gentlemen,  between 
the  mere  diversion  of  the  mind  and  its  real  education. 
Supposing,  for  instance,  I am  tempted  to  go  into  some 
society  which  will  do  me  harm,  and  supposing,  instead,  I 
fall  asleep  in  my  chair,  and  so  let  the  time  pass  by,  in 
that  case  certainly  I escape  the  danger,  but  it  is  as  if  by 
accident,  and  my  going  to  sleep  has  not  had  any  real 
effect  upon  me,  or  made  me  more  able  to  resist  the 
temptation  on  some  future  occasion.  I wake,  and  I am 
what  I was  before.  The  opportune  sleep  has  but  removed 
the  temptation  for  this  once.  It  has  not  made  me  better  j 
for  I have  not  been  shielded  from  temptation  by  any  act 
of  my  own,  but  I was  passive  under  an  accident,  for  such 
I may  call  sleep.  And  so  in  like  manner,  if  I hear  a 
lecture  indolently  and  passively,  I cannot  indeed  be  else- 
where while  I am  here  hearing  it, — but  it  produces  no 
positive  effect  on  my  mind, — it  does  not  tend  to  create 
any  power  in  my  breast  capable  of  resisting  temptation 
by  its  own  vigour,  should  temptation  come  a second  time. 

Now  this  is  no  fault.  Gentlemen,  of  the  books  or  the 


489 


Discipline  of  Mind. 

lectures  of  the  Mechanics'  Institute.  They  could  not  do 
more  than  they  do,  from  their  very  nature.  They  do 
their  part,  but  their  part  is  not  enough.  A man  may 
hear  a thousand  lectures,  and  read  a thousand  volumes, 
and  be  at  the  end  of  the  process  very  much  where  he  was, 
as  regards  knowledge.  Something  more  than  merely 
admitting  it  in  a negative  way  into  the  mind  is  necessary, 
if  it  is  to  remain  there.  It  must  not  be  passively  received, 
but  actually  and  actively  entered  into,  embraced,  mastered. 
The  mind  must  go  half-way  to  meet  what  comes  to  it 
from  without. 

This,  then,  is  the  point  in  which  the  institutions  I am 
speaking  of  fail ; here,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  advantage 
of  such  lectures  as  you  are  attending,  Gentlemen,  in  our 
University.  You  have  come,  not  merely  to  be  taught, 
but  to  learn.  You  have  come  to  exert  your  minds.  You 
have  come  to  make  what  you  hear  your  own,  by  putting 
out  your  hand,  as  it  were,  to  grasp  it  and  appropriate  it. 
You  do  not  come  merely  to  hear  a lecture,  or  to  read  a 
book,  but  you  come  for  that  catechetical  instruction, 
which  consists  in  a sort  of  conversation  between  your 
lecturer  and  you.  He  tells  you  a thing,  and  he  asks  you 
to  repeat  it  after  him.  He  questions  you,  he  examines 
you,  he  will  not  let  you  go  till  he  has  proof,  not  only  that 
you  have  heard,  but  that  you  know. 


5. 

Gentlemen,  I am  induced  to  quote  here  some  remarks 
of  my  own,  which  I put  into  print  on  occasion  of  those 
Evening  Lectures,  already  referred  to,  with  which  we 
introduced  the  first  terms  of  the  University.  The  at- 
tendance upon  them  was  not  large,  and  in  consequence 
we  discontinued  them  for  a time,  but  I attempted  to  ex- 
plain in  print  what  the  object  of  them  had  been ; and 


490 


Discipline  of  Mind, 

while  what  I then  said  is  pertinent  to  the  subject  I am 
now  pursuing,  it  will  be  an  evidence  too,  in  addition  to 
my  opening  remarks,  of  the  hold  which  the  idea  of  these 
Evening  Lectures  has  had  upon  me. 

I will  venture  to  give  you  my  thoughts,^'  I then  said, 
writing  to  a friend,*  on  the  object  of  the  Evening  Public 
Lectures  lately  delivered  in  the  University  House,  which, 
I think,  has  been  misunderstood. 

‘‘I  can  bear  witness,  not  only  to  their  remarkable  merit 
as  lectures,  but  also  to  the  fact  that  they  were  very  satis- 
factorily attended.  Many,  however,  attach  a vague  or 
unreasonable  idea  to  the  word  ‘satisfactory,’  and  main- 
tain that  no  lectures  can  be  called  satisfactory  which  do 
not  make  a great  deal  of  noise  in  the  place,  and  they  are 
disappointed  otherwise.  This  is  what  I mean  by  mis- 
conceiving their  object ; for  such  an  expectation,  and 
consequent  regret,  arise  from  confusing  the  ordinary  with 
the  extraordinary  object  of  a lecture, — upon  which  point 
we  ought  to  have  clear  and  definite  ideas. 

“The  ordinary  object  of  lectures  is  to  teach  ; but  there 
is  an  object,  sometimes  demanding  attention,  and  not 
incongruous,  which,  nevertheless,  cannot  be  said  properly 
to  belong  to  them,  or  to  be  more  than  occasional.  As 
there  are  kinds  of  eloquence  which  do  not  aim  at  any 
thing  beyond  their  own  exhibition,  and  are  content  with 
being  eloquent,  and  with  the  sensation  which  eloquence 
creates ; so  in  Schools  and  Universities  there  are  sea- 
sons, festive  or  solemn,  anyhow  extraordinary,  when 
academical  acts  are  not  directed  towards  their  proper 
ends,  so  much  as  intended  to  amuse,  to  astonish,  and  to 
attract,  and  thus  to  have  an  effect  upon  public  opinion. 
Such  are  the  exhibition  days  of  Colleges  ; such  the 
annual  Commemoration  of  Benefactors  at  one  of  the 
* University  Gazette,  No.  42,  p.  420. 


Discipline  of  Mind.  491 

English  Universities,  when  Doctors  put  on  their  gayest 
gowns,  and  Public  Orators  make  Latin  Speeches.  Such, 
too,  are  the  Terminal  Lectures,  at  which  divines  of  the 
greatest  reputation  for  intellect  and  learning  have  before 
now  poured  forth  sentences  of  burning  eloquence  into  the 
ears  of  an  audience  brought  together  for  the  very  sake 
of  the  display.  The  object  of  all  such  Lectures  and 
Orations  is  to  excite  or  to  keep  up  an  interest  and  rever- 
ence in  the  public  mind  for  the  Institutions  from  which  the 
exhibition  proceeds  — I might  have  added,  such  are  the 
lectures  delivered  by  celebrated  persons  in  Mechanics’ 
Institutes. 

I continue : Such  we  have  suitably  had  in  the  new 
University ; — such  were  the  Inaugural  Lectures.  Dis- 
plays of  strength  and  skill  of  this  kind,  in  order  to  succeed, 
should  attract  attention,  and  if  they  do  not  attract  atten- 
tion, they  have  failed.  They  do  not  invite  an  audience, 
but  an  attendance  ; and  perhaps  it  is  hardly  too  much  to 
say  that  they  are  intended  for  seeing  rather  than  for 
hearing. 

‘‘  Such  celebrations,  however,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  must  be  rare.  It  is  the  novelty  which  brings,  it  is 
the  excitement  which  recompenses,  the  assemblage.  The 
academical  body  which  attempts  to  make  such  extraordi- 
nary acts  the  normal  condition  of  its  proceedings,  is 
putting  itself  and  its  Professors  in  a false  position. 

''  It  is,  then,  a simple  misconception  to  suppose  that 
those  to  whom  the  government  of  our  University  is  con- 
fided have  aimed  at  an  object,  which  could  not  be  con- 
templated at  all  without  a confusion  or  inadvertence,  such 
as  no  considerate  person  will  impute  to  them.  Public 
lectures,  delivered  with  such  an  object,  could  not  be  suc- 
cessful ; and,  in  consequence,  our  late  lectures  have,  I 
cannot  doubt  (for  it  could  not  be  otherwise),  ended  unsa.tis- 


49^  Disciplijie  of  Mmd. 

factorily  in  the  judgment  of  any  zealous  person  who  has 
assumed  for  them  an  office  with  which  their  projectors 
never  invested  them. 

‘^What  their  object  really  was  the  very  meaning  of 
academical  institutions  suggests  to  us.  It  is,  as  I said 
when  I began,  to  teach.  Lectures  are,  properly  speaking, 
not  exhibitions  or  exercises  of  art,  but  matters  of  business; 
they  profess  to  impart  something  definite  to  those  who 
attend  them,  and  those  who  attend  them  profess  on  their 
part  to  receive  what  the  lecturer  has  to  offer.  It  is  a 
case  of  contract : — " I will  speak,  if  you  will  listen  f ‘ I 
will  come  here  to  learn,  if  you  have  any  thing  worth 
teaching  me.'  In  an  oratorical  display,  all  the  effort  is 
on  one  side  ; in  a lecture,  it  is  shared  between  two  parties, 
who  co-operate  towards  a common  end. 

''  There  should  be  ever  something,  on  the  face  of  the 
arrangements,  to  act  as  a memento  that  those  who  come, 
come  to  gain  something,  and  not  from  mere  curiosity.  And 
in  matters  of  fact,  such  were  the  persons  who  did  attend,  in 
the  course  of  last  term,  and  such  as  those,  and  no  others, 
will  attend.  Those  came  who  wished  to  gain  information 
on  a subject  new  to  them,  from  informants  whom  they 
held  in  consideration,  and  regarded  as  authorities.  It 
was  impossible  to  survey  the  audience  which  occupied 
the  lecture-room  without  seeing  that  they  came  on  what 
may  be  called  business.  And  this  is  why  I said,  when 
I began,  that  the  attendance  was  satisfactory.  That 
attendance  is  satisfactory, — not  which  is  numerous,  but 
— which  is  steady  and  persevering.  But  it  is  plain,  that  to 
a mere  by-stander,  who  came  merely  from  general  in- 
terest or  good  will  to  see  how  things  were  going  on,  and 
who  did  not  catch  the  object  of  advertising  the  Lectures, 
it  would  not  occur  to  look  into  the  faces  of  the  audience  ; 
he  would  think  it  enough  to  be  counting  their  heads ; he 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


493 


would  do  little  more  than  observe  whether  the  staircase 
and  landing  were  full  of  loungers,  and  whether  there 
was  such  a noise  and  bustle  that  it  was  impossible  to 
hear  a word  ; and  if  he  could  get  in  and  out  of  the  room 
without  an  effort,  if  he  could  sit  at  his  ease,  and  actually 
hear  the  lecturer,  he  would  think  he  had  sufficient 
grounds  for  considering  the  attendance  unsatisfactory. 

The  stimulating  system  may  easily  be  overdone,  and 
does  not  answer  on  the  long  run.  A blaze  among  the 
stubble,  and  then  all  is  dark.  I have  seen  in  my  time 
various  instances  of  the  way  in  which  Lectures  really 
gain  upon  the  public ; and  I must  express  my  opinion 
that,  even  were  it  the  sole  object  of  our  great  under- 
taking to  make  a general  impression  upon  public  opinion, 
instead  of  that  of  doing  definite  good  to  definite  persons, 
I should  reject  that  method,  which  the  University  indeed 
itself  has  not  taken,  but  which  young  and  ardent  minds 
may  have  thought  the  more  promising.  Even  did  I 
wish  merely  to  get  the  intellect  of  all  Dublin  into  our 
rooms,  I should  not  dream  of  doing  it  all  at  once,  but 
at  length.  I should  not  rely  on  sudden,  startling  effects, 
but  on  the  slow,  silent,  penetrating,  overpowering  effects 
of  patience,  steadiness,  routine,  and  perseverance.  I 
have  known  individuals  set  themselves  down  in  a neigh- 
bourhood where  they  had  no  advantages,  and  in  a place 
which  had  no  pretensions,  and  upon  a work  which  had 
little  or  nothing  of  authoritative  sanction;  and  they  have 
gone  on  steadily  lecturing  week  after  week,  with  little 
encouragement,  but  much  resolution.  For  months  they 
were  ill  attended,  and  overlooked  in  the  bustle  of  the 
world  around  them.  But  there  was  a secret,  gradual 
movement  going  on,  and  a specific  force  of  attraction, 
and  a drifting  and  accumulation  of  hearers,  which  at 
length  made  itself  felt,  and  could  not  be  mistaken.  In 


494 


Discipline  of  Mind, 


this  stage  of  things,  a friend  said  in  conversation  to  me, 
when  at  the  moment  I knew  nothing  of  the  parties : 
‘By-the-bye,  if  you  are  interested  in  such  and  such  a 
subject,  go  by  all  means,  and  hear  such  a one.  So  and 
so  does,  and  says  there  is  no  one  like  him.  I looked  in 
myself  the  other  night,  and  was  very  much  struck.  Do 
go,  you  can’t  mistake;  he  lectures  every  Tuesday  night,  or 
Wednesday,  or  Thursday,’  as  it  might  be.  An  influence 
thus  gradually  acquired  endures ; sudden  popularity 
dies  away  as  suddenly.” 

As  regards  ourselves,  the  time  is  passed  now.  Gentle- 
men, for  such  modesty  of  expectation,  and  such  caution 
in  encouragement,  as  these  last  sentences  exhibit.  The 
few,  but  diligent,  attendants  upon  the  Professors’  lectures, 
with  whom  we  began,  have  grown  into  the  diligent  and 
zealous  many;  and  the  speedy  fulfilment  of  anticipations, 
which  then  seemed  to  be  hazardous,  surely  is  a call  on 
us  to  cherish  bolder  hopes  and  to  form  more  extended 
plans  for  the  years  which  are  to  follow. 

6. 

You  will  ask  me,  perhaps,  after  these  general  remarks, 
to  suggest  to  you  the  particular  intellectual  benefit  which 
I conceive  students  have  a right  to  require  of  us,  and 
which  we  engage  by  means  of  our  evening  classes  to  pro- 
vide for  them.  And,  in  order  to  this,  you  must  allow 
me  to  make  use  of  an  illustration,  which  I have  hereto- 
fore employed,*  and  which  I repeat  here,  because  it  is 
the  best  that  I can  find  to  convey  what  I wish  to  impress 
upon  you.  It  is  an  illustration  which  includes  in  its 
application  all  of  us,  teachers  as  well  as  taught,  though 
it  applies  of  course  to  some  more  than  to  others,  and  to 
those  especially  who  come  for  instruction. 

* Vid.  supr.  p.  231. 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


495 


I consider,  then,  that  the  position  of  our  minds,  as  far 
as  they  are  uncultivated,  towards  intellectual  objects, — 1 
mean  of  our  minds,  before  they  have  been  disciplined  and 
formed  by  the  action  of  our  reason  upon  them, — is  analo- 
gous to  that  of  a blind  man  towards  the  objects  of  vision, 
at  the  moment  when  eyes  are  for  the  first  time  given  to 
him  by  the  skill  of  the  operator.  Then  the  multitude  of 
things,  which  present  themselves  to  the  sight  under  a mul- 
tiplicity of  shapes  and  hues,  pour  in  upon  him  from  the 
external  world  all  at  once,  and  are  at  first  nothing  else 
but  lines  and  colours,  without  mutual  connection,  depend- 
ence, or  contrast,  without  order  or  principle,  without 
drift  or  meaning,  and  like  the  wrong  side  of  a piece  of 
tapestry  or  carpet.  By  degrees,  by  the  sense  of  touch, 
by  reaching  out  the  hands,  by  walking  into  this  maze  of 
colours,  by  turning  round  in  it,  by  accepting  the  princi- 
ple of  perspective,  by  the  various  slow  teaching  of  ex- 
perience, the  first  information  of  the  sight  is  corrected, 
and  what  was  an  unintelligible  wilderness  becomes  a land- 
scape or  a scene,  and  is  understood  to  consist  of  space, 
and  of  bodies  variously  located  in  space,  with  such  con- 
sequences as  thence  necessarily  follow.  The  knowledge  is 
at  length  gained  of  things  or  objects,  and  of  their  rela- 
tion to  each  other ; and  it  is  a kind  of  knowledge,  as  is 
plain,  which  is  forced  upon  us  all  from  infancy,  as  to  the 
blind  on  their  first  seeing,  by  the  testimony  of  our  other 
senses,  and  by  the  very  necessity  of  supporting  life  ; so 
that  even  the  brute  animals  have  been  gifted  with  the 
faculty  of  acquiring  it. 

Such  is  the  case  as  regards  material  objects ; and  it  is 
much  the  same  as  regards  intellectual.  I mean  that 
there  is  a vast  host  of  matters  of  all  kinds,  which  address 
themselves,  not  to  the  eye,  but  to  our  mental  sense ; viz., 
all  those  matters  of  thought  which,  in  the  course  of  life 


496 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


and  the  intercourse  of  society,  are  brought  before  us, 
which  we  hear  of  in  conversation,  which  we  read  of  in 
books ; matters  political,  social,  ecclesiastical,  literaiy, 
domestic ; persons,  and  their  doings  or  their  writings ; 
events,  and  works,  and  undertakings,  and  laws,  and  in- 
stitutions. These  make  up  a much  more  subtle  and 
intricate  world  than  that  visible  universe  of  which  I was 
just  now  speaking.  It  is  much  more  difficult  in  this 
world  than  in  the  material  to  separate  things  off  from 
each  other,  and  to  find  out  how  they  stand  related  to 
each  other,  and  to  learn  how  to  class  them,  and  where, 
to  locate  them  respectively.  Still,  it  is  not  les5  true_ 
that,  as  the  various  figures  and  forms  in  a landscape 
have  each  its  own  place,  and  stand  in  this  or  that  direc- 
tion towards  each  other,  so  all  the  various  objects  which 
address  the  intellect  have  severally  a substance  of  their 
own,  and  have  fixed  relations  each  of  them  with  every- 
thing else, — relations  which  our  minds  have  no  power  of 
creating,  but  which  we  are  obliged  to  ascertain  before 
we  have  a right  to  boast  that  we  really  know  any  thing 
about  them.  Yet,  when  the  mind  looks  out  for  the  first 
time  into  this  manifold  spiritual  world,  it  is  just  as  much 
confused  and  dazzled  and  distracted  as  are  the  eyes  of 
the  blind  when  they  first  begin  to  see  ; and  it  is  by  a 
long  process,  and  with  much  effort  and  anxiety,  that  we 
begin  hardly  and  partially  to  apprehend  its  various  con- 
tents and  to  put  each  in  its  proper  place. 

We  grow  up  from  boyhood  ; our  minds  open ; we  go 
into  the  world  ; we  hear  v/hat  men  say,  or  read  what 
they  put  in  print ; and  thus  a profusion  of  matters  of  all 
kinds  is  discharged  upon  us.  Some  sort  of  an  idea  we 
have  of  most  of  them,  from  hearing  what  others  say; 
but  it  is  a very  vague  idea,  probably  a very  mistaken 
idea.  Young  people,  especially,  because  they  are  young, 


497 


Discipline  of  Mmd, 

colour  the  assemblage  of  persons  and  things  which  they 
encounter  with  the  freshness  and  grace  of  their  own 
springtide,  look  for  all  good  from  the  reflection  of  theii 
own  hopefulness,  and  worship  what  they  have  created. 
Men  of  ambition,  again,  look  upon  the  world  as  a theatre 
for  fame  and  glory,  and  make  it  that  magnificent  scene 
of  high  enterprise  and  august  recompence  which  Pindar 
or  Cicero  has  delineated.  Poets,  too,  after  their  wont, 
put  their  ideal  interpretation  upon  all  things,  material 
as  well  as  moral,  and  substitute  the  noble  for  the  true. 
Here  are  various  obvious  instances,  suggestive  of  the 
discipline  which  is  imperative,  if  the  mind  is  to  grasp 
things  as  they  are,  and  to  discriminate  substances  from 
shadows.  For  I am  not  concerned  merely  with  youth, 
ambition,  or  poetry,  but  with  our  mental  condition  gene- 
rally. It  is  the  fault  of  all  of  us,  till  we  have  duly 
practised  our  minds,  to  be  unreal  in  our  sentiments  and 
crude  in  our  judgments,  and  to  be  carried  off  by  fancies, 
instead  of  being  at  the  trouble  of  acquiring  sound  know- 
ledge. 

In  consequence,  when  we  hear  opinions  put  forth  on 
any  new  subject,  we  have  no  principle  to  guide  us  in 
balancing  them  ; we  do  not  know  what  to  make  of  them; 
we  turn  them  to  and  fro,  and  over,  and  back  again,  as  if 
to  pronounce  upon  them,  if  we  could,  but  with  no  means 
of  pronouncing.  It  is  the  same  when  we  attempt  to 
speak  upon  them : we  make  some  random  venture ; or 
we  take  up  the  opinion  of  some  one  else,  which  strikes 
our  fancy ; or  perhaps,  with  the  vaguest  enunciation 
possible  of  any  opinion  at  all,  we  are  satisfied  with  our- 
selves if  we  are  merely  able  to  throw  off  some  rounded 
sentences,  to  make  some  pointed  remarks  on  some  other 
subject,  or  to  introduce  some  figure  of  speech,  or  flowers 
of  rhetoric^  which,  instead  of  being  the  vehicle,  are  the 

32 


498  Discipline  of  Mind. 

mere  substitute  of  meaning.  We  wish  to  take  a part  in 
politics,  and  then  nothing  is  open  to  us  but  to  follow 
some  person,  or  some  party,  and  to  learn  the  common- 
places and  the  watchwords  which  belong  to  it.  We 
hear  about  landed  interests,  and  mercantile  . interests^ 
and  trade,  and  higher  and  lower  classes,  and  their  rights, 
duties,  and  prerogatives;  and  we  attempt  to  transmit 
what  we  have  received  ; and  soon  our  minds  become 
loaded  and  perplexed  by  the  incumbrance  of  ideas  which 
we  have  not  mastered  and  cannot  use.  We  have  some 
vague  idea,  for  instance,  that  constitutional  government 
and  slavery  are  inconsistent  with  each  other ; that  there 
is  a connection  between  privatejudgment  and  democracy, 
between  Christianity  and  civilization  ; we  attempt  to  find 
arguments  in  proof,  and  our  arguments  are  the  most 
plain  demonstration  that  we  simply  do  not  understand  the 
things  themselves  of  which  we  are  professedly  treating. 

7- 

Reflect,  Gentlemen,  how  many  disputes  you  must  have 
listened  to,  which  were  interminable,  because  neither  party 
understood  either  his  opponent  or  himself.  Consider  the 
fortunes  of  an  argument  in  a debating  society,  and  the 
need  there  so  frequently  is,  not  simply  of  some  clear 
thinker  to  disentangle  the  perplexities  of  thought,  but  of 
capacity  in  the  combatants  to  do  justice  to  the  clearest 
explanations  which  are  set  before  them, — so  much  so, 
that  the  luminous  arbitration  only  gives  rise,  perhaps,  to 
more  hopeless  altercation.  “ Is  a constitutional  govern- 
ment better  for  a population  than  an  absolute  rule  ” 
What  a number  of  points  have  to  be  clearly  apprehended 
before  we  are  in  a position  to  say  one  word  on  such  a 
question ! What  is  meant  by  “ constitution  ” } by  “ con- 
stitutional government”?  by  “better”?  by  ‘.‘a  popula- 


Discipline  of  Mind, 


499 


tion  ? and  by  absolutism  ” ? The  ideas  represented 
by  these  various  words  ought,  I do  not  say,  to  be  as  per- 
fectly defined  and  located  in  the  minds  of  the  speakers 
as  objects  of  sight  in  a landscape,  but  to  be  sufficiently, 
even  though  incompletely,  apprehended,  before  they  have 
a right  to  speak.  How  is  it  that  democracy  can  admit 
of  slavery,  as  in  ancient  Greece } “ How  can  Catho- 
licism flourish  in  a republic.^’’  Now,  a person  who  knows 
his  ignorance  will  say,  ‘‘These  questions  are  beyond  me;” 
and  he  tries  to  gain  a clear  notion  and  a firm  hold  of 
them ; and,  if  he  speaks,  it  is  as  investigating,  not  as 
deciding.  On  the  other  hand,  let  him  never  have  tried 
to  throw  things  together,  or  to  discriminate  between  them, 
or  to  denote  their  peculiarities,  in  that  case  he  h^s  no 
hesitation  in  undertaking  any  subject,  and  perhaps  has 
most  to  say  upon  those  questions  which  are  most  new  to 
him.  This  is  why  so  many  men  are  one-sided,  narrow- 
minded, prejudiced,  crotchety.  This  is  why  able  men 
have  to  change  their  minds  and  their  line  of  action  in 
middle  age,  and  to  begin  life  again,  because  they  have 
followed  their  party,  instead  of  having  secured  that  faculty 
of  true  perception  as  regards  intellectual  objects  which 
has  accrued  to  them,  without  their  knowing  how,  as  re- 
gards the  objects  of  sight. 

But  this  defect  will  never  be  corrected, — on  the  contrary, 
it  will  be  aggravated, — by  those  popular  institutions  to 
which  I referred  just  now.  The  displays  of  eloquence,  or 
the  interesting  matter  contained  in  their  lectures,  the 
variety  of  useful  or  entertaining  knowledge  contained  in 
their  libraries,  though  admirable  in  themselves,  and  advan- 
tageous to  the  student  at  a later  stage  of  his  course,  never 
can  serve  as  a substitute  for  methodical  and  laborious 
teaching.  A young  man  of  sharp  and  active  intellect,  who 
has  had  no  other  training,  has  little  to  show  for  it  besides 


500 


Discipline  of  Mind, 


a litter  of  ideas  heaped  up  into  his  mind  anyhow.  He 
can  utter  a number  of  truths  or  sophisms,  as  the  case 
may  be,  and  one  is  as  good  to  him  as  another.  He  is  up 
with  a number  of  doctrines  and  a number  of  facts,  but 
they  are  all  loose  and  straggling,  for  he  has  no  principles 
set  up  in  his  mind  round  which  to  aggregate  and  locate 
them.  He  can  say  a word  or  two  on  half  a dozen  sciences, 
but  not  a dozen  words  on  any  one.  He  says  one  thing 
now,  and  another  thing  presently ; and  when  he  attempts 
to  write  down  distinctly  what  he  holds  upon  a point  in 
dispute,  or  what  he  understands  by  its  terms,  he  breaks 
down,  and  is  surprised  at  his  failure.  He  sees  objections 
more  clearly  than  truths,  and  can  ask  a thousand  ques- 
tions which  the  wisest  of  men  cannot  answer  ; and  withal, 
he  has  a very  good  opinion  of  himself,  and  is  well  satis- 
fied with  his  attainments,  and  he  declares  against  others, 
as  opposed  to  the  spread  of  knowledge  altogether,  who 
do  not  happen  to  adopt  his  ways  of  furthering  it,  or  the 
opinions  in  which  he  considers  it  to  result. 

This  is  that  barren  mockery  of  knowledge  which  comes 
of  attending  on  great  Lecturers,  or  of  mere  acquaintance 
with  reviews,  magazines,  newspapers,  and  other  literature 
of  the  day,  which,  however  able  and  valuable  in  itself,  is 
not  the  instrument  of  intellectual  education.  If  this  is 
all  the  training  a man  has,  the  chance  is  that,  when  a few 
years  have  passed  over  his  head,  and  he  has  talked  to  the 
full,  he  wearies  of  talking,  and  of  the  subjects  on  which 
he  talked.  He  gives  up  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and 
forgets  what  he  knew,  whatever  it  was  ; and,  taking 
things  at  their  best,  his  mind  is  in  no  very  different  con- 
dition from  what  it  was  when  he  first  began  to  improve 
it,  as  he  hoped,  though  perhaps  he  never  thought  of  more 
than  of  amusing  himself.  I say,  “ at  the  best,”  for  per- 
haps he  will  suffer  from  exhaustion  and  a distaste  of  the 


Discipline  of  Mind.  501 

subjects  which  once  pleased  him  ; or  perhaps  he  has 
suffered  some  real  intellectual  mischief ; perhaps  he  has 
contracted  some  serious  disorder,  he  has  admitted  some 
taint  of  scepticism,  which  he  will  never  get  rid  of. 

And  here  we  see  what  is  meant  by  the  poet’s  maxim, 
‘'A  little  learning  is  a dangerous  thing.”  Not  that 
knowledge,  little  or  much,  if  it  be  real  knowledge,  is 
dangerous ; but  that  many  a man  considers  a mere  hazy 
view  of  many  things  to  be  real  knowledge,  whereas  it 
does  but  mislead,  just  as  a short-sighted  man  sees  only 
so  far  as  to  be  led  by  his  uncertain  sight  over  the 
precipice. 

Such,  then,  being  true  cultivation  of  mind^  and  such  the 
literary  institutions  which  do  not  tend  to  it,  I might  pro- 
ceed to  show  you.  Gentlemen,  did  time  admit,  how,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  kind  of  instruction  of  which  our 
Evening  Classes  are  a specimen,  is  especially  suited  to 
effect  what  they  propose.  Consider,  for  instance,  what 
a discipline  in  accuracy  of  thought  it  is  to  have  to  con- 
strue a foreign  language  into  your  own  ; what  a still 
severer  and  more  improving  exercise  it  is  to  translate 
from  your  own  into  a foreign  language.  Consider,  again, 
what  a lesson  in  memory  and  discrimination  it  is  to  get 
up,  as  it  is  called,  any  one  chapter  of  history.  Consider 
what  a trial  of  acuteness,  caution,  and  exactness,  it  is  to 
master,  and  still  more  to  prove,  a number  of  definitions. 
Again,  what  an  exercise  in  logic  is  classification,  what 
an  exercise  in  logical  precision  it  is  to  understand  and 
enunciate  the  proof  of  any  of  the  more  difficult  pro- 
positions of  Euclid,  or  to  master  any  one  of  the  great 
arguments  for  Christianity  so  thoroughly  as  to  bear  ex- 
amination upon  it ; or,  again,  to  analyze  sufficiently,  yet 
in  as  few  words  as  possible,  a speech,  or  to  draw  up  a 
critique  upon  a poem.  And  so  of  any  other  science  — 


502  Discipline  of  Mind. 

chemistry,  or  comparative  anatomy,  or  natural  history ; 
it  does  not  matter  what  it  is,  if  it  be  really  studied  and 
rnastered,  as  far  as  it  is  taken  up.  The  result  is  a forma- 
tion^ of  mind,  that  is,  a habit  of  order  and  system,  a 
habit  of  referring-  every  accession  of  knowledge  to  what 
we  already  know,  and  of  adjusting  the  one  with  the 
other ; and,  moreover,  as  such  a habit  implies,  the  actual 
acceptance  and  use  of  certain  principles  as  centres  of 
thought,  around  which  our  knowledge  grows  and  is 
located.  Where  this  critical  faculty  exists,  history  is  no 
longer  a mere  story-book,  or  biography  a romance ; 
orators  and  publications  of  the  day  are  no  longer  in- 
fallible authorities;  eloquent  diction  is  no  longer  a 
subsdtute  for  matter,  nor  bold  statements,  or  lively 
descriptions,  a substitute  for  proof.  This  is  that  faculty 
of  perception  in  intellectual  matters,  which,  as  I have 
said  so  often,  is  analogous  to  the  capacity  we  all  have  of 
mastering  the  multitude  of  lines  and  colours  which  pour 
in  upon  our  eyes,  and  of  deciding  what  every  one  of 
them  is  worth. 


8. 

But  I should  be  transgressing  the  limits  assigned  to 
an  address  of  this  nature  were  I to  proceed.  I have 
not  said  any  thing,  Gentlemen,  on  the  religious  duties 
which  become  the  members  of  a Catholic  University, 
because  we  are  directly  concerned  here  with  your  studies 
only.  It  is  my  consolation  to  know  that  so  many  of  you 
belong  to  a Society  or  Association,  which  the  zeal  of 
some  excellent  priests,  one  especially,  has  been  so  in- 
strumental in  establishing  in  your  great  towns.  You 
do  not  come  to  us  to  have  the  foundation  laid  in  your 
breasts  of  that  knowledge  which  is  highest  of  all : it  has 
been  laid  already.  You  have  begun  your  mental  train- 


Discipline  of  Mind. 


503 


ing  with  faith  and  devotion ; and  then  you  come  to  us 
to  add  the  education  of  the  intellect  to  the  education  of 
the  heart.  Go  on  as  you  have  begun,  and  you  will  be 
one  of  the  proudest  achievements  of  our  great  under- 
taking. We  shall  be  able  to  point  to  you  in  proof  that 
zeal  for  knowledge  may  thrive  even  under  the  pressure 
of  secular  callings  ; that  mother-wit  does  not  necessarily 
make  a man  idle,  nor  inquisitiveness  of  mind  irreverent ; 
that  shrewdness  and  cleverness  are  not  incompatible 
with  firm  faith  in  the  mysteries  of  Revelation ; that 
attainment  in  Literature  and  Science  need  not  make 
men  conceited,  nor  above  their  station,  nor  restless,  nor 
self-willed.  We  shall  be  able  to  point  to  you  in  proof 
of  the  power  of  Catholicism  to  make  out  of  the  staple  of 
great  towns  exemplary  and  enlightened  Christians, — of 
those  classes  which,  external  to  Ireland,  are  the  problem 
and  perplexity  of  patriotic  statesmen,  and  the  natural 
opponents  of  the  teachers  of  every  kind  of  religion. 

As  to  myself,  I wish  I could  by  actual  service  and 
hard  work  of  my  own  respond  to  your  zeal,  as  so  many 
of  my  dear  and  excellent  friends,  the  Professors  of  the 
University,  have  done  and  do.  They  have  a merit,  they 
have  a claim  on  you,  Gentlemen,  in  which  I have  no 
part.  If  I admire  the  energy  and  bravery  with  which 
you  have  undertaken  the  work  of  self-improvement,  be 
sure  I do  not  forget  their  public  spirit  and  noble  free 
devotion  to  the  University  any  more  than  you  do.  I 
know  I should  not  satisfy  you  with  any  praise  of  this 
supplement  of  our  academical  arrangements  which  did 
not  include  those  who  give  to  it  its  life.  It  is  a very 
pleasant  and  encouraging  sight  to  see  both  parties,  the 
teachers  and  the  taught,  co-operating  with  a pure  esprit- 
de-corps  thus  voluntarily, — they  as  fully  as  you  can  do, — 


504  Discipline  of  Mind. 

for  a great  object ; and  I offer  up  my  earnest  prayers  to 
the  Author  of  all  good,  that  He  will  ever  bestow  on  you 
all^  on  Professors  and  on  Students,  as  I feel  sure  He  will 
bestow,  Rulers  and  Superiors,  who,  by  their  zeal  and 
diligence  in  their  own  place,  shall  prove  themselves 
w^orthy  both  of  your  cause  and  of  yourselves. 


505 


X. 

CHRISTIANITY  AND  MEDICAL  SCIENCE. 

AN  ADDRESS  TO  THE  STUDENTS  OF  MEDICINE. 


I. 

I HAVE  had  so  few  opportunities,  Gentlemen,  of  ad- 
dressing you,  and  our  present  meeting  is  of  so  interest- 
ing and  pleasing  a character,  by  reason  of  the  object 
which  occasions  it,  that  I am  encouraged  to  speak  freely 
to  you,  though  I do  not  know  you  personally,  on  a sub- 
ject which,  as  you  may  conceive,  is  often  before  my  own 
mind  : I mean,  the  exact  relation  in  which  your  noble 
profession  stands  towards  the  Catholic  University  itself 
and  towards  Catholicism  generally.  Considering  my 
own  most  responsible  office  as  Rector,  my  vocation  as 
an  ecclesiastic,  and  then  again  my  years,  which  increase 
my  present  claim,  and  diminish  my  future  chances,  of 
speaking  to  you,  I need  make  no  apology,  I am  sure, 
for  a step,  which  will  be  recommended  to  you  by  my 
good  intentions,  even  though  it  deserves  no  consideration 
on  the  score  of  the  reflections  and  suggestions  themselves 
which  I shall  bring  before  you.  If  indeed  this  Univer- 
sity, and  its  Faculty  of  Medicine  inclusively,  were  set  up 
for  the  promotion  of  any  merely  secular  object, — in  the 
spirit  of  religious  rivalry,  as  a measure  of  party  politics, 
or  as  a comiriercial  speculation, — then  indeed  I should 


5o6  Christianity  and  Medical  Science. 

be  out  of  place,  not  only  in  addressing  you  in  the  tone 
of  advice,  but  in  being  here  at  all ; for  what  reason  could 
I in  that  case  have  had  for  having  now  given  some  of 
the  most  valuable  years  of  my  life  to  this  University, 
for  having  placed  it  foremost  in  my  thoughts  and  anxie- 
ties,— (I  had  well  nigh  said)  to  the  prejudice  of  prior, 
dearer,  and  more  sacred  ties, — except  that  I felt  that 
the  highest  and  most  special  religious  interests  were 
bound  up  in  its  establishment  and  in  its  success?  Suffer 
me,  then.  Gentlemen,  if  with  these  views  and  feelings  I 
conform  my  observations  to  the  sacred  building  in  which 
we  find  ourselves,  and  if  I speak  to  you  for  a few  minutes 
as  if  I were  rather  addressing  you  authoritatively  from 
the  pulpit  than  in  the  Rector’s  chair. 

Now  I am  going  to  set  before  you,  in  as  few  words  as 
I can,  what  I conceive  to  be  the  principal  duty  of  the 
Medical  Profession  towards  Religion,  and  some  of  the 
difficulties  which  are  found  in  the  observance  of  that 
duty  : and  in  speaking  on  the  subject  I am  conscious 
how  little  qualified  I am  to  handle  it  in  such  a way  as 
will  come  home  to  your  minds,  from  that  want  of  ac- 
quaintance with  you  personally,  to  which  I have  alluded, 
and  from  my  necessary  ignorance  of  the  influences  of 
whatever  kind  which  actually  surround  you,  and  the 
points  of  detail  which  are  likely  to  be  your  religious  em- 
barrassments. I can  but  lay  down  principles  and  maxims, 
which  you  must  apply  for  yourselves,  and  which  in  some 
respects  or  cases  you  may  feel  have  no  true  applicatior 
at  all. 


2. 

All  professions  have  their  dangers,  all  general  truths 
have  their  fallacies,  all  spheres  of  action  have  their  limits, 
and  are  liable  to  improper  extension  or  alteration.  Every 


Christianity  and  Medical  Science.  507 

professional  man  has  rightly  a zeal  for  his  profession, 
and  he  would  not  do  his  duty  towards  it  without  that 
zeal.  And  that  zeal  soon  becomes  exclusive,  or  rather 
necessarily  involves  a sort  of  exclusiveness.  A zealous 
professional  man  soon  comes  to  think  that  his  profession 
is  all  in  all,  and  that  the  world  would  not  go  on  without 
it.  We  have  heard,  for  instance,  a great  deal  lately  in 
regard  to  the  war  in  India,  of  political  views  suggesting 
one  plan  of  campaign,  and  military  views  suggesting 
another.  How  hard  it  must  be  for  the  military  man  to 
forego  his  own  strategical  dispositions,  not  on  the  ground 
that  they  are  not  the  best, — not  that  they  are  not  ac- 
knowledged by  those  who  nevertheless  put  them  aside 
to  be  the  best  for  the  object  of  military  success, — but 
because  military  success  is  not  the  highest  of  objects, 
and  the  end  of  ends, — because  it  is  not  the  sovereign 
science,  but  must  ever  be  subordinate  to  political  con- 
siderations or  maxims  of  government,  which  is  a higher 
science  with  higher  objects, — and  that  therefore  his  sure 
success  on  the  field  must  be  relinquished  because  the 
interests  of  the  council  and  the  cabinet  require  the  sac- 
rifice, that  the  war  must  yield  to  the  statesman’s  craft,  the 
commander-in-chief  to  the  governor-general.  Yet  what 
the  soldier  feels  is  natural,  and  what  the  statesman  does 
is  just.  This  collision,  this  desire  on  the  part  of  every 
profession  to  be  supreme, — this  necessary,  though  reluc- 
tant, subordination  of  the  one  to  the  other, — is  a process 
ever  going  on,  ever  acted  out  before  our  eyes.  The 
civilian  is  in  rivalry  with  the  soldier,  the  soldier  with  the 
civilian.  The  diplomatist,  the  lawyer,  the  political  econo- 
mist, the  merchant,  each  wishes  to  usurp  the  powers  of 
the  state,  and  to  mould  society  upon  the  principles  of 
his  own  pursuit. 

Nor  do  they  confine  themselves  to  the  mere  province  of 


5o8  Christianity  a7ict  Medical  Science. 


secular  matters.  They  intrude  into  the  province  of  Re- 
ligion. In  England,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  law- 
yers got  hold  of  religion,  and  never  have  let  it  go.  Abroad, 
bureaucracy  keeps  hold  of  Religion  with  a more  or  less 
firm  grasp.  The  circles  of  literature  and  science  have 
in  like  manner  before  now  made  Religion  a mere  province 
of  their  universal  empire. 

I remark,  moreover,  that  these  various  usurpations  are 
frequently  made  in  perfectly  good  faith.  There  is  no 
intention  of  encroachment  on  the  part  of  the  encroachers. 
The  commander  recommends  what  with  all  his  heart  and 
soul  he  thinks  best  for  his  country  when  he  presses  on 
Government  a certain  plan  of  campaign.  The  political 
economist  has  the  most  honest  intentions  of  improving 
the  Christian  system  of  social  duty  by  his  reforms.  The 
statesman  may  have  the  best  and  most  loyal  dispositions 
towards  the  Holy  See,  at  the  time  that  he  is  urging 
changes  in  ecclesiastical  discipline  which  would  be 
seriously  detrimental  to  the  Church. 

And  now  I will  say  how  this  applies  to  the  Medical 
Profession,  and  what  is  its  special  danger,  viewed  in  re- 
lation to  Catholicity. 


3- 

Its  province  is  the  physical  nature  of  man,  and  its 
object  is  the  preservation  of  that  physical  nature  in  its 
proper  state,  and  its  restoration  when  it  has  lost  it.  It 
limits  itself,  by  its  very  profession,  to  the  health  of  the 
body  ; it  ascertains  the  conditions  of  that  health ; it 
analyzes  the  causes  of  its  interruption  or  failure  ; it  seeks 
about  for  the  means  of  cure.  But,  after  all,  bodily  health 
is  not  the  only  end  of  man,  and  the  medical  science  is 
not  the  highest  science  of  which  he  is  the  subject.  Man 
has  a moral  and  a religious  nature,  as  well  as  a physical. 


Christia7iity  and  Medical  Science.  509 

He  has  a mind  and  a soul ; and  the  mind  and  soul  have 
a legitimate  sovereignty  over  the  body,  and  the  sciences 
relating  to  them  have  in  consequence  the  precedence 
of  those  sciences  which  relate  to  the  body.  And  as  the 
soldier  must  yield  to  the  statesman,  when  they  come  into 
collision  with  each  other,  so  must  the  medical  man  to  the 
priest ; not  that  the  medical  man  may  not  be  enunciating 
what  is  absolutely  certain,  in  a medical  point  of  view, 
as  the  commander  may  be  perfectly  right  in  what  he 
enunciates  strategically,  but  that  his  action  is  suspended 
in  the  given  case  by  the  interests  and  duty  of  a superior 
science,  and  he  retires  not  confuted  but  superseded. 

Now  this  general  principle  thus  stated,  all  will  admit : 
who  will  deny  that  health  must  give  way  to  duty  } So 
far  there  is  no  perplexity : supposing  a fever  to  break 
out  in  a certain  place,  and  the  medical  practitioner  said 
CO  a Sister  of  Charity  who  was  visiting  the  sick  there, 
“You  will  die  to  a certainty  if  you  remain  there,”  and 
her  ecclesiastical  superiors  on  the  contrary  said,  “ You 
have  devoted  your  life  to  such  services,  and  there  you 
must  stay  ; ” and  supposing  she  stayed  and  was  taken 
off ; the  medical  adviser  would  be  right,  but  who  would 
say  that  the  Religious  Sister  was  wrong } She  did  not 
doubt  his  word,  but  she  denied  the  importance  of  that 
word,  compared  with  the  word  of  her  religious  superiors. 
The  medical  man  was  right,  yet  he  could  not  gain  his 
point.  He  was  right  in  what  he  said,  he  said  what  was 
true,  yet  he  had  to  give  way. 

Here  we  are  approaching  what  I conceive  to  be  the 
especial  temptation  and  danger  to  which  the  medical 
profession  is  exposed  : it  is  a certain  sophism  of  the  in- 
tellect, founded  on  this  maxim,  implied,  but  not  spoken 
or  even  recognized — “What  is  true  is  lawful.”  Not  so. 
Observe,  here  is  the  fallacy, — What  is  true  in  one  science 


510  Chrisiianity  and  Medical  Science. 

is  dictated  to  us  indeed  according  to  that  science,  but 
not  according  to  another  science,  or  in  another  depart- 
ment. What  is  certain  in  the  military  art  has  force  in 
the  military  art,  but  not  in  statesmanship;  and  if  states- 
manship be  a higher  department  of  action  than  war,  and 
enjoins  the  contrary,  it  has  no  claim  on  our  reception  and 
obedience  at  all.  And  so  what  is  true  in  medical  science 
might  in  all  cases  be  carried  out,  were  man  a mere 
animal  or  brute  without  a soul ; but  since  he  is  a rational, 
responsible  being,  a thing  may  be  ever  so  true  in  medicine, 
yet  may  be  unlawful  in  fact,  in  consequence  of  the  higher 
law  of  morals  and  religion  having  come  to  some  different 
conclusion.  Now  I must  be  allowed  some  few  words  to 
express,  or  rather  to  suggest,  more  fully  what  I mean. 

The  whole  universe  comes  from  the  good  God.  It  is 
His  creation  ; it\s  good  ; it  is  all  good,  as  being  the  work 
of  the  Good,  though  good  only  in  its  degree,  and  not  after 
His  Infinite  Perfection.  The  physical  nature  of  man  is 
good  ; nor  can  there  be  any  thing  sinful  in  itself  in  acting 
according  to  that  nature.  Every  natural  appetite  or  func- 
tion is  lawful,  speaking  abstractedly.  No  natural  feeling 
or  act  is  in  itself  sinful.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  all 
this  ; and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  science  can  deter- 
mine what  is  natural,  what  tends  to  the  preservation  ol 
a healthy  state  of  nature,  and  what  on  the  contrary  is 
injurious  to  nature.  Thus  the  medical  student  has  a vast 
field  of  knowledge  spread  out  before  him,  true,  because 
knowledge,  and  innocent,  because  true. 

So  much  in  the  abstract — but  when  we  come  to  facty 
it  may  easily  happen  that  what  is  in  itself  innocent  may 
not  be  innocent  to  this  or  that  person,  or  in  this  or  that 
mode  or  degree.  Again,  it  may  easily  happen  that  the 
impressions  made  on  a man's  mind  by  his  own  science 
may  be  indefinitely  more  vivid  and  operative  than  the 


Christianity  and  Medical  Science.  5 1 1 


enunciations  of  truths  belonging  to  some  other  branch  of 
knowledge,  which  strike  indeed  his  ear,  but  do  not  come 
home  to  him,  are  not  fixed  in  his  memory,  are  not  im- 
printed on  his  imagination.  And  in  the  profession  before 
us,  a medical  student  may  realize  far  more  powerfully  and 
habitually  that  certain  acts  are  advisable  in  themselves 
according  to  the  law  of  physical  nature,  than  the  fact  that 
they  are  forbidden  according  to  the  law  of  some  higher 
science,  as  theology  ; or  again,  that  they  are  accidentally 
wrong,  as  being,  though  lawful  in  themselves,  wrong  in 
this  or  that  individual,  or  under  the  circumstances  of  the 
case. 

Now  to  recur  to  the  instance  I have  already  given  : it 
is  supposable  that  that  Sister  of  Charity,  who,  for  the 
sake  of  her  soul,  would  not  obey  the  law  of  self-preserva- 
tion as  regards  her  body,  might  cause  her  medical  adviser 
great  irritation  and  disgust.  His  own  particular  profes- 
sion might  have  so  engrossed  his  mind,  and  the  truth  of 
its  maxims  have  so  penetrated  it,  that  he  could  not 
understand  or  admit  any  other  or  any  higher  system. 
He  might  in  process  of  time  have  become  simply  dead 
to  all  religious  truths,  because  such  truths  were  not  present 
to  him,  and  those  of  his  own  science  were  ever  present. 
And  observe,  his  fault  would  be,  not  that  of  taking  error 
for  truth,  for  what  he  relied  on  was  truth — but  in  not 
understanding  that  there  were  other  truths,  and  those 
higher  than  his  own. 

Take  another  case,  in  which  there  will  often  in  parti- 
cular circumstances  be  considerable  differences  of  opinion 
among  really  religious  men,  but  which  does  not  cease  on 
that  account  to  illustrate  the  point  I am  insisting  on.  A 
patient  is  dying  : the  priest  wishes  to  be  introduced,  lest 
he  should  die  without  due  preparation  : the  medical  man 
says  that  the  thought  of  religion  will  disturb  his  mind 


512  Christianity  and  Medical  Science. 

and  imperil  his  recovery.  Now  in  the  particular  case, 
the  one  party  or  the  other  may  be  right  in  urging  his 
own  view  of  what  ought  to  be  done.  I am  merely 
directing  attention  to  the  principle  involved  in  it.  Here 
are  the  representatives  of  two  great  sciences,  Religion 
and  Medicine.  Each  says  what  is  true  in  his  own  science, 
each  will  think  he  has  a right  to  insist  on  seeing  that  the 
truth  which  he  himself  is  maintaining  is  carried  out  in 
action  ; whereas,  one  of  the  two  sciences  is  above  the 
other,  and  the  end  of  Religion  is  indefinitely  higher  than 
the  end  of  Medicine.  And,  however  the  decision  ought 
to  go,  in  the  particular  case,  as  to  introducing  the  subject 
of  religion  or  not,  I think  the  priest  ought  to  have  that 
decision  ; just  as  a Governor-General,  not  k Commander- 
in-Chief,  would  have  the  ultimate  decision,  were  politics 
and  strategics  to  come  into  collision. 

You  will  easily  understand.  Gentlemen,  that  I dare 
not  pursue  my  subject  into  those  details,  which  are  of 
the  greater  importance  for  the  very  reason  that  they 
cannot  be  spoken  of.  A medical  philosopher,  who  has 
so  simply  fixed  his  intellect  on  his  own  science  as  to  have 
forgotten  the  existence  of  any  other,  will  view  man,  who 
is  the  subject  of  his  contemplation,  as  a being  who  has 
little  more  to  do  than  to  be  born,  to  grow,  to  eat,  to  drink, 
to  walk,  to  reproduce  his  kind,  and  to  die.  He  sees  him 
born  as  other  animals  are  born  ; he  sees  life  leave  him, 
with  all  those  phenomena  of  annihilation  which  accom- 
pany the  death  of  a brute.  He  compares  his  structure, 
his  organs,  his  functions,  with  those  of  other  animals, 
and  his  own  range  of  science  leads  to  the  discovery  of  no 
facts  which  are  sufficient  to  convince  him  that  there  is 
any  difference  in  kind  between  the  human  animal  and 
them.  His  practice,  then,  is  according  to  his  facts  and 
his  theory.  Such  a person  will  think  himself  free  to  give 


Christianity  and  Medical  Science.  513 

advice,  and  to  insist  upon  rules,  which  are  quite  insuffer- 
able to  any  religious  mind,  and  simply  antagonistic  to 
faith  and  morals.  It  is  not,  I repeat,  that  he  says  what 
is  untrue,  supposing  that  man  were  an  animal  and  nothing 
else  : but  he  thinks  that  whatever  is  true  in  his  own 
science  is  at  once  lawful  in  practice — as  if  there  were  not 
a number  of  rival  sciences  in  the  great  circle  of  philosophy, 
as  if  there  were  not  a number  of  conflicting  views  and 
objects  in  human  nature  to  be  taken  into  account  and 
reconciled,  or  as  if  it  were  his  duty  to  forget  all  but  his 
own  ; whereas 

There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 

Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy. 

I have  known  in  England  the  most  detestable  advice 
given  to  young  persons  by  eminent  physicians,  in  con- 
sequence of  this  contracted  view  of  man  and  his  destinies. 
God  forbid  that  I should  measure  the  professional  habits 
of  Catholics  by  the  rules  of  practice  of  those  who  were 
not ! but  it  is  plain  that  what  is  actually  carried  out 
where  religion  is  not  known,  exists  as  a temptation  and 
a danger  in  the  Science  of  Medicine  itself,  where  religion 
is  known  ever  so  well. 

( 

4. 

And.  now,  having  suggested,  as  far  as  I dare,  what  I 
consider  the  consequences  of  that  radical  sophism  to 
which  the  medical  profession  is  exposed,  let  me  go  on  to 
say  in  what  way  it  is  corrected  by  the  action  of  Catho- 
licism upon  it. 

You  will  observe,  then.  Gentlemen,  that  those  higher 
sciences  of  which  I have  spoken,  Morals  and  Religion, 
are  not  represented  to  the  intelligence  of  the  world  by 
intimations  and  notices  strong  and  obvious,  such  as  those 

33 


514  Christianity  and  Medical  Scmice 

which  are  the  foundation  of  Physical  Science.  The 
physical  nature  lies  before  us,  patent  to  the  sight,  ready 
to  the  touch,  appealing  to  the  senses  in  so  unequivocal  a 
way  that  the  science  which  is  founded  upon  it  is  as 
real  to  us  as  the  fact  of  our  personal  existence.  But 
the  phenomena,  which  are  the  basis  of  morals  and  Reli- 
gion, have  nothing  of  this  luminous  evidence.  Instead 
of  being  obtruded  upon  our  notice,  so  that  we  cannot 
possibly  overlook  them,  they  are  the  dictates  either  of 
Conscience  or  of  Faith.  They  are  faint  shadows  and 
tracings,  certain  indeed,  but  delicate,  fragile,  and  almost 
evanescent,  which  the  mind  recognizes  at  one  time,  not 
at  another, — discerns  when  it  is  calm,  loses  when  it  is  in 
agitation.  The  reflection  of  sky  and  mountains  in  the 
lake  is  a proof  that  sky  and  mountains  are  around  it, 
but  the  twilight,  or  the  mist,  or  the  sudden  storm  hurries 
away  the  beautiful  image,  which  leaves  behind  it  no 
memorial  of  what  it  was.  Something  like  this  are  the 
Moral  Law  and  the  informations  of  Faith,  as  they  pre- 
sent themselves  to  individual  minds.  Who  can  deny 
the  existence  of  Conscience  } who  does  not  feel  the  force 
of  its  injunctions  ? but  how  dim  is  the  illumination  in 
which  it  is  invested,  and  how  feeble  its  influence,  com- 
pared with  that  evidence  of  sight  and  touch  which  is  the 
foundation  of  Physical  Science  ! How  easily  can  we  be 
talked  out  of  our  clearest  views  of  duty ! how  does  this 
or  that  moral  precept  crumble  into  nothing  when  we 
rudely  handle  it ! how  does  the  fear  of  sin  pass  off  from 
us,  as  quickly  as  the  glow  of  modesty  dies  away  from 
the  countenance  ! and  then  we  say,  ‘‘  It  is  all  supersti- 
tion.'' However,  after  a time  we  look  round,  and  then 
to  our  surprise  we  see,  as  before,  the  same  law  of  duty, 
the  same  moral  precepts,  the  same  protests  against  sin, 
appearing  over  against  us,  in  their  old  places,  as  if  they 


Christianity  a7id  Medical  Science.  515 

never  had  been  brushed  away,  like  the  divine  handwriting 
upon  the  wall  at  the  banquet.  Then  perhaps  we  ap- 
proach them  rudely,  and  inspect  them  irreverently,  and 
accost  them  sceptically,  and  away  they  go  again,  like  so 
many  spectres, — shining  in  their  cold  beauty,  but  not 
presenting  themselves  bodily  to  us,  for  our  inspection,  so 
to  say,  of  their  hands  and  their  feet.  And  thus  these 
awful,  supernatural,  bright,  majestic,  delicate  apparitions, 
much  as  we  may  in  our  hearts  acknowledge  their  sove- 
reignty, are  no  match  as  a foundation  of  Science  for 
the  hard,  palpable,  material  facts  which  make  up  the 
province  of  Physics.  Recurring  to  my  original  illus- 
tration, it  is  as  if  the  India  Commander-in-Chief,  instead  of 
being  under  the  control  of  a local  seat  of  government  at 
Calcutta,  were  governed  simply  from  London,  or  from 
the  moon.  In  that  case,  he  would  be  under  a strong 
temptation  to  neglect  the  home  government,  which 
nevertheless  in  theory  he  acknowledged.  Such,  I say, 
is  the  natural  condition  of  mankind  : — we  depend  upon 
a seat  of  government  which  is  in  another  world  ; we  are 
directed  and  governed  by  intimations  from  above ; we 
need  a local  government  on  earth. 

That  great  institution,  then,  the  Catholic  Church,  has 
been  set  up  by  Divine  Mercy,  as  a present,  visible  anta- 
gonist, and  the  only  possible  antagonist,  to  sight  and 
sense.  Conscience,  reason,  good  feeling,  the  instincts  of 
our  moral  nature,  the  traditions  of  Faith,  the  conclusions 
and  deductions  of  philosophical  Religion,  are  no  match 
at  all  for  the  stubborn  facts  (for  they  are  facts,  though 
there  are  other  facts  besides  them),  for  the  facts,  which 
are  the  foundation  of  physical,  and  in  particular  of  medi- 
cal, science.  Gentlemen,  if  you  feel,  as  you  must  feel, 
the  whisper  of  a law  of  moral  truth  within  you,  and  the 
impulse  to  believe,  be  sure  there  is  nothing  whatever  on 


5 1 6 Christianity  and  Medical  Science. 

earth  which  can  be  the  sufficient  champion  of  these 
sovereign  authorities  of  your  soul,  which  can  vindicate 
and  preserve  them  to  you,  and  make  you  loyal  to  them, 
but  the  Catholic  Church.  You  fear  they  will  go,  you 
see  with  dismay  that  they  are  going,  under  the  continual 
impression  created  on  your  mind  by  the  details  of  the 
material  science  to  which  you  have  devoted  your  lives. 
It  is  so — I do  not  deny  it  ; except  under  rare  and  happy 
circumstances,  go  they  will,  unless  you  have  Catholicism 
to  back  you  up  in  keeping  faithful  to  them.  The  world 
is  a rough  antagonist  of  spiritual  truth  : sometimes  with 
mailed  hand,  sometimes  with  pertinacious  logic,  some- 
times with  a storm  of  irresistible  facts,  it  presses  on 
against  you.  What  it  says  is  true  perhaps  as  far  as  it 
goes,  but  it  is  not  the  whole  truth,  or  the  most  important 
truth.  These  more  important  truths,  which  the  natural 
heart  admits  in  their  substance,  though  it  cannot  main- 
tain,— the  being  of  a God,  the  certainty  of  future  retri- 
bution, the  claims  of  the  moral  law,  the  reality  of  sin, 
the  hope  of  supernatural  help, — of  these  the  Church  is  in 
matter  of  fact  the  undaunted  and  the  only  defender. 

Even  those  who  do  not  look  on  her  as  divine  must 
grant  as  much  as  this.  I do  not  ask  you  for  more  here 
than  to  contemplate  and  recognize  her  as  a fact, — as 
other  things  are  facts.  She  has  been  eighteen  hundred 
years  in  the  world,  and  all  that  time  she  has  been  doing 
battle  in  the  boldest,  most  obstinate  way  in  the  cause  of 
the  human  race,  in  maintenance  of  the  undeniable  but 
comparatively  obscure  truths  of  Religion.  She  is  always 
alive,  always  on  the  alert,  when  any  enemy  whatever 
attacks  them.  She  has  brought  them  through  a thou- 
sand perils.  Sometimes  preaching,  sometimes  pleading, 
sometimes  arguing, — sometimes  exposing  her  ministers 
to  death,  and  sometimes,  though  rarely,  inflicting  blows 


Christianity  and  Medical  Science.  517 

herself, — by  peremptory  deeds,  by  patient  concessions, — 
she  has  fought  on  and  fulfilled  her  trust.  No  wonder 
so  many  speak  against  her,  for  she  deserves  it ; she  has 
earned  the  hatred  and  obloquy  of  her  opponents  by  her 
success  in  opposing  them.  Those  even  who  speak  against 
her  in  this  day,  own  that  she  was  of  use  in  a former  day. 
The  historians  in  fashion  with  us  just  now,  much  as  they 
may  disown  her  in  their  own  country,  where  she  is  an 
actual,  present,  unpleasant,  inconvenient  monitor,  ac- 
knowledge that,  in  the  middle  ages  which  are  gone,  in 
her  were  lodged,  by  her  were  saved,  the  fortunes  and 
the  hopes  of  the  human  race.  The  very  characteristics 
of  her  discipline,  the  very  maxims  of  her  policy,  which 
they  reprobate  now,  they  perceive  to  have  been  of  ser- 
vice then.  They  understand,  and  candidly  avow,  that 
once  she  was  the  patron  of  the  arts,  the  home  and  sanc- 
tuary of  letters,  the  basis  of  law,  the  principle  of  order 
and  government,  and  the  saviour  of  Christianity  itself. 
They  judge  clearly  enough  in  the  case  of  others,  though 
they  are  slow  to  see  the  fact  in  their  own  age  and  coun- 
try ; and,  while  they  do  not  like  to  be  regulated  by  her, 
and  kept  in  order  by  her,  themselves,  they  are  very  well 
satisfied  that  the  populations  of  those  former  centuries 
should  have  been  so  ruled,  and  tamed,  and  taught  by 
her  resolute  and  wise  teaching.  And  be  sure  of  this, 
that  as  the  generation  now  alive  admits  these  benefits 
to  have  arisen  from  her  presence  in  a state  of  society 
now  gone  by,  so  in  turn,  when  the  interests  and  pas- 
sions of  this  day  are  passed  away,  will  future  generations 
ascribe  to  her  a like  special  beneficial  action  upon  this 
nineteenth  century  in  which  we  live.  For  she  is  ever 
the  same, — ever  young  and  vigorous,  and  ever  overcom- 
ing new  errors  with  the  old  weapons, 


51 8 Christianity  and  Medical  Science. 

And  now  I have  explained,  Gentlemen,  why  it  has 
been  so  highly  expedient  and  desirable  in  a country  like 
this  to  bring  the  Faculty  of  Medicine  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Catholic  Church.  I say  ‘Gn  a country  like  this  C 
for,  if  there  be  any  country  which  deserves  that  Science 
should  not  run  wild,  like  a planet  broken  loose  from  its 
celestial  system,  it  is  a country  which  can  boast  of  such 
hereditary  faith,  of  such  a persevering  confessorship,  of 
such  an  accumulation  of  good  works,  of  such  a glorious 
name,  as  Ireland.  Far  be  it  from  this  country,  far  be  it 
from  the  counsels  of  Divine  Mercy,  that  it  should  grow 
in  knowledge  and  not  grow  in  religion ! and  Catholicism 
is  the  strength  of  Religion,  as  Science  and  System  are 
the  strength  of  Knowledge. 

Aspirations  such  as  these  are  met.  Gentlemen,  I am 
well  aware,  by  a responsive  feeling  in  your  own  hearts ; 
but  by  my  putting  them  into  words,  thoughts  which 
already  exist  within  you  are  brought  into  livelier  exercise, 
and  sentiments  which  exist  in  many  breasts  hold  inter- 
communion with  each  other.  Gentlemen,  it  will  be  your 
high  office  to  be  the  links  in  your  generation  between 
Religion  and  Science.  Return  thanks  to  the  Author  of 
all  good  that  He  has  chosen  you  for  this  work.  Trust 
the  Church  of  God  implicitly,  even  when  your  natural 
judgment  would  take  a different  course  from  hers,  and 
would  induce  you  to  question  her  prudence  or  her  correct- 
ness. Recollect  what  a hard  task  she  has  ; how  she  is 
sure  to  be  criticized  and  spoken  against,  whatever  she 
does  ; — recollect  how  much  she  needs  your  loyal  and 
tender  devotion.  Recollect,  too,  how  long  is  the  experi- 
ence gained  in  eighteen  hundred  years,  and  what  a right 
she  has  to  claim  your  assent  to  principles  which  have 


Christianity  and  Medical  Science.  519 

had  so  extended  and  so  triumphant  a trial.  Thank  her 
that  she  has  kept  the  faith  safe  for  so  many  generations, 
and  do  your  part  in  helping  her  to  transmit  it  to  genera- 
tions after  you. 

For  me,  if  it  has  been  given  me  to  have  any  share  in 
so  great  a work,  I shall  rejoice  with  a joy,  not  such  indeed 
as  I should  feel  were  I myself  a native  of  this  generous 
land,  but  with  a joy  of  my  own,  not  the  less  pure,  because 
I have  exerted  myself  for  that  which  concerns  others 
more  nearly  than  myself.  I have  had  no  other  motive, 
as  far  as  I know  myself,  than  to  attempt,  according  to 
my  strength,  some  service  to  the  cause  of  Religion,  and 
to  be  the  servant  of  those  to  whom  as  a nation  the  whole 
of  Christendom  is  so  deeply  indebted ; and  though  this 
University,  and  the  Faculty  of  Medicine  which  belongs 
to  it,  are  as  yet  only  in  the  commencement  of  their  long 
career  of  usefulness,  yet  while  I live,  and  (I  trust)  after 
life,  it  will  ever  be  a theme  of  thankfulness  for  my  heart 
and  my  lips,  that  I have  been  allowed  to  do  even  a little, 
and  to  witness  so  much,  of  the  arduous,  pleasant,  and 
hopeful  toil  which  has  attended  on  their  establishment. 


5:20 


Note  on  Page  478. 

I THINK  it  worthwhile,  in  illustration  of  what  I have 
said  above  at  the  page  specified,  to  append  the  fol- 
lowing passage  from  Grandorgaeus's  catalogue  of  Mura- 
tori’s  works. 

‘‘Sanctissimus  D.N.  Benedictus  xiv.  Pont.  Max.  Epis- 
tolam  sapientiae  ac  roboris  plenam  dederat.  . . ad 
Episcopum  Terulensem  Hispaniae  Inquisitionis  Majorem 
Inquisitorem,  qua  ilium  hortabatur,  ut  ^ Historiam  Pela- 
gianam  et  dissertationem,  etc.,'  editas  a clarae  memoriae 
Henrico  Cardinali  Norisio,  in  Indicem  Expurgatorium 
Hispanum  nuper  ingestas,  perinde  ac  si  aliquid  Baia- 
nismi  autjansenismi  redolerent,prout  auctor  'Bibliothecae 
Jansenisticae'  immerito  autumavit,  quamprimura  expun- 
gendas  curaret.  Eoque  nomine  Sapientissimus  Pontifex 
plura  in  medium  attulit  prudentis  oeconomiae  exempla, 
qua  semper  usum,  supremum  S.  R.  Congr.  Indicis  Tribu- 
nal, a proscribendis  virorum  doctissimorum  operibus 
aliquando  temperavit. 

" Quum  autem  summus  Pontifex,  ea  inter  nomina 
illustria  Tillemontii,  Bollandistarum,  Bosoueti  Ep.  Meld., 
et  illud  recensuerit  L.  A.  Muratorii,  his  ad  Auctorem 
nostrum  delatis,  quam  maxima  indoluit,  veritus  ne  in 
tanta  operum  copia  ab  se  editorum,  aliquid  Fidei  aut 
Religioni  minus  consonum  sibi  excidisset.  . . 

'' Verum  clementissimus  Pontifex  ne  animum  despon- 
deret  doctus  et  humilis  filius,  pernumaniter  ad  ipsum 
rescripsit.  . . eumque  paterne/consolatus^  inter  alia  haec 


Note  on  Page  478. 


521 


Jiabet : * Quanto  si  era  detto  nella  nostra  Lettera  air 

Inquisitore  di  Spagna  in  ordine  alle  di  Lei  Opere,  non 
aveva  che  fare  con  la  materia  delle  Feste,  nh  con  verun 
dogma  o disciplina.  II  contenuto  delle  Opere  chi  qui 
non  h piaciuto  (n^  che  Ella  poteva  mai  lusingarsi  che 
fosse  per  piacere),  riguarda  la  Giurisdizione  Temporale 
del  Romano  Pontifice  ne  suoistati/^'  etc.  (pp.  lx.,  Ixi). 


INDEX 


Abelard,  96,  age  of,  263 
Accomplishments  not  education,  144 

Addison,  his  Vision  of  Mir za^  279;  his  care  in  writing,  284  ; the  child  of 
the  Revolution,  312,  329 
/Eschylus,  258 
Alcuin,  17 
Aldhelin,  St.,  17 

Alexander  the  Great,  his  delight  in  Homer,  258  ; conquests  of,  264 
Anaxagoras,  116 
Andes,  the,  136 

Animuccia  and  St.  Philip  Neri,  237 
Apollo  Belvidere,  the,  283 
Aquinas,  St.  Thomas,  134,  263,  384 
Arcesilas,  loi 
Architecture,  81 

A.rian  argument  against  our  Lord’s  Divinity,  95 
Ariosto,  316 

Aristotelic  philosophy,  the,  52 

Aristotle,  xii.,  6,  53;  quoted,  78,  loi,  106,  109,  134,  222,  275;  his  sketch 
of  the  magnanimous  man,  280,  383,  431,  469 
Athens,  the  fountain  of  secular  knowledge,  264 
Augustine,  St,  of  Canterbury,  mission  of,  16 
Augustine,  St,  of  Hippo,  quoted,  410 

Bacci’s  Life  of  St.  Philip  Neri,  quoted,  236 
Bacon,  Friar,  xiii.,  220 
Baconian  philosophy,  the,  109 

Bacon,  Lord,  quoted,  77,  90,  117-119,  I7S,  221,  225,  263,  319,  437 

Balaam,  66 

Beethoven,  286,  313 

Bentham’s  Preuves  fudiciaires,  96 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  on  Gothic  Architecture,  81 

Boccaccio,  316 

Boniface,  St.,  220 

Borromeo,  St.  Carlo,  enjoins  the  use  of  some  of  the  Latin  classics,  261  5 on 
preaching,  406,  412,  414,  421 
Bossuet  and  Bishop  Bull,  7 

Brougham,  Lord,  his  Discourse  at  Glasgow,  quoted,  30,  34-35 
Brutus,  abandoned  by  philosophy,  116 

Burke,  Edmund,  176  ; his  valediction  to  the  spirit  of  chivalry,  20 1 


524 


Index. 


Burman,  140 

Butler,  Bishop,  his  Analogy,  61,  icx>,  158,  226 
Byron,  Lord,  his  versification,  326 

Caietan,  St.,  235 
Campbell,  Thomas,  322,  326 
Cameades,  106 

Cato  the  elder,  his  opposition  to  the  Greek  philosophy,  106 

Catullus,  325 

Chinese  civilization,  252 

Christianity  and  Letters,  249 

Chrysostom,  St.,  on  Judas,  86 

Cicero,  quoted,  77  ; on  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  104,  1 16,  260;  style  of, 
281,  282,  327  ; quoted,  399 ; his  orations  against  Verres,  421 
Civilization  and  Christianity,  255 
Clarendon,  Lord,  31 1 
Colours,  combination  of,  100 
Condescension,’’  two  senses  of,  205 
Copleston,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  Llandaff,  157  ; quoted,  167-169 
Corinthian  brass,  175 
Cowper,  quoted,  19 1,  467 

Crabbe,  his  7'ales  oj  the  Hall,  150  ; his  versification,  326 
Craik,  Dr.  G.  L.,  his  Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties,  quoted,  103, 
104 

Dante,  316,  329 

Davison,  John,  158  ; on  laberal  Education,  169-177 

Definiteness,  the  life  of  preaching,  426 

Demosthenes,  259,  284 

Descartes,  315 

Dumesnil’s  Synonym es,  368 

Du  Pin’s  Ecclesiastical  History,  140 

Edgeworth,  Mr.,  on  Professional  Education,  158,  170,  176 
Edinburgh,  154 

Edinburgh  Remew,  the,  153,  157,  160,  301,  329 

Edward  II.,  King  of  England,  vow  at  his  flight  from  Bannockburn,  155 
Elmsley,  xiv. 

Epicurus,  40 

Euclid’s  Elements,  274,  313,  501 
Euripides,  258 

Fenelon,  on  the  Gothic  style  of  Architecture,  82 

Fontaine,  La,  his  immoral  Contes,  315 

Fouque,  Lamotte,  his  tale  of  the  Unknown  Patient,  1 19 

Fra  Angelico,  287 

Franklin,  304 

Frederick  II.,  383,  384 

Galen,  222 

Gentleman,  the  true,  defined,  208 

Gerdil,  Cardinal,  quoted,  xiii.,  on  th^  Emperor  Julian,  194  ; ou  Malf' 
J)ranche,  477 


Index. 


525 


Giamione,  316 

Gibbon,  on  the  darkness  at  the  Passion,  95  ; his  hatred  of  Christianity, 
^95f  196  ; his  care  in  writing,  285  ; influence  of  his  style  oft  the  litera- 
ture of  the  present  day,  323  ; his  tribute  to  Hume  and  Robertson,  325 
Goethe,  134 
Gothic  Architecture,  82 
Grammar,  96,  334 
Gregory  the  Great,  St.,  260 

Hardouin,  Father,  on  Latin  literature,  310 
Health,  164 

Herodotus,  284,  325,  329 
Hobbes,  31 1 

Homer,  his  address  to  the  Delian  women,  257;  his  best  descriptions,  accord- 
ing to  Sterne,  marred  by  translation,  271 
Hooker,  31 1 

Horace,  quoted,  257,  258,  329 
Home  Tooke,  96 
Hume,  40,  58 ; style  of  325 
Humility,  206 
Huss,  155 

Jacob’s  courtship,  232 
Jeffrey,  Lord,  157. 

Jerome,  St.,  on  idolizing  the  creature,  87 
J emsalem,  the  fountain-head  of  religious  knowledge,  264 
Ignatius,  St.  235 

Job,  religious  merry-makings  of,  232  ; Book  of,  289 
John,  King,  383 
John  of  Salisbury,  262 

Johnson,  Dr.,  his  method  of  writing  the  Ramblers,  xx.  ; his  vigour  and 
resource  of  intellect,  xxi.  ; his  definition  of  the  word  University  20 ; his 
Rasselas  quoted,  1 16-117;  style  of,  283  ; his  Table-talk,  313;  his  bias 
towards  Catholicity,  319  ; his  definition  of  Gramniar^  334 
Joseph,  history  of,  271 
Isaac,  feast  at  his  weaning,  232 
Isocrates,  282 
Julian  the  Apostate,  194 
Justinian,  265 
Juvenal,  325 

Keble,  John,  158  ; his  Latin  Lectures,  369 

Knowledge,  its  own  end,  99 ; viewed  in  relation  to  learning,  124 ; to  pro- 
fessional skill,  15 1 ; to  religion,  179 

Lalanne,  Abbe,  9 

Leo,  St.,  on  the  love  of  gain,  87 

Literature,  268 

Locke,  on  Education,  158-160,  163,  319. 

Logos,  276 

Lohner,  Father,  his  story  of  a court-preacher,  41 1 

Longinus,  his  admiration  of  the  Mosaic  account  of  Creation,  271 
Lutheran  leaven,  spread  of  the,  28 


520 


Index. 


Macaulay,  Lord,  his  Essay  on  Bacon’s  philosophy,  ii8,  221 ; his  Essays 
quoted,  301,  435‘438,  45^ 

Machiavel,*3i6  . 

Malebranche,  477 

Maltby,  Dr.,  bishop  of  Durham,  his  Address  to  the  Deity,  33,  40 
Michael  Angelo,  first  attempts  of,  283 
Milman,  Dean,  his  History  of  the  Jews,  85 

Milton,  on  Education,  169 ; his  Samson  Agonistes  quoted,  323 ; his  allu 
sions  to  himself,  329 
Modesty,  206 
Montaigne's  Essays,  315 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  437 
Mosheim’s  Ecclesiastical  History,  140 
Muratori,  478,  520 
Music,  80 

Neri,  St.  Philip,  234 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  xiii.,  49,  53  ^ on  the  Apocalypse,  304;  his  marvellous 
powers,  324 

Newtonian  philosophy,  the,  49 
Noah’s  ark,  73 

Olympic  games,  the,  107 
Optics,  46 

Painting,  79 
Palestrina,  237 
Paley,  58,  449 
Palladio,  57 
Pascal,  315 

Patrick,  St,  greatness  of  his  work,  15 
Periodical  criticism,  333 
Persian  mode  of  letter- writing,  277 
Pindar,  329 

Pitt,  William,  his  opinion  of  Butler’s  Analogy,  loO 

Pius  IV.,  Pope,  death  of,  237 

Plato,  on  poets,  loi  ; on  music,  1 10 

Playfair,  Professor,  157 

Political  Economy,  86 

Pompey’s  Pillar,  136 

Pope,  Alex.,  quoted,  118;  an  indifferent  Catholic,  318;  has  tuned  our 
versification,  323  ; quoted,  375,  501 
Person,  Richard,  xiv.,  304 
Pride  and  self-respect,  207 
Private  Judgment,  97 

Protestant  argument  against  Transubstantiation,  95 
Psalter,  the,  289 
Pulci,  316 
Pythagoras,  xiii 

Rabelais,  315 

Raffaelle,  first  attempts  of,  283  ; 287 
Easse/as  quoted^  116 


Index. 


527 


Recreations  not  Education,  144 
Robertson,  style  of,  325 
Rome,  265 

Round  Towers  of  Ireland,  the,  95 

Sales,  St.  Francis  de,  on  preaching,  406,  410,  4x1 
Salmasius,  140 
Savonarola,  235 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  313  ; his  Old  Mortality ^ 359 
Seneca,  no,  116,  327 
Sermons  of  the  seventeenth  century,  140 
Shaftesbury,  Lord,  his  Characteristics.,  196-201,  204 

Shakespeare,  quoted,  150;  Macbeth  quoted,  280;  Hamlet  quoted,  281 ; 

quoted,  284,  287;  morality  of,  318;  quoted,  410,  513 
Simon  of  Toumay,  narrative  of,  384 
Smith,  Sydney,  157 
Sophocles,  258 

Southey^s  Thalaha,  323 ; quoted,  324 
Sterne’s  Sermons,  quoted,  270-272 
Stuffing  birds  not  education,  144 
Sylvester  II.,  Pope,  accused  of  magic,  220 

Tarpeia,  140 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  his  Liberty  of  Prophesying^  472 
Terence  and  Menander,  259 
Tertullian,  327 
Thales,  xiii. 

Theology,  a branch  of  knowledge,  19;  definition  of,  60 
Thucydides,  259,  325,  329 
Titus,  armies  of,  265 

Virgil,  his  obligations  to  Greek  poets,  259  ; wishes  his  ^neid  Dumt,  284  j 
fixes  the  character  of  the  hexameter,  325,  329 
Voltaire,  303,  315 

Utility  in  Education,  161 

Watson,  Bishop,  on  Mathematics,  loz 
Wiclif,  155 

Wren,  Sir  Christopher,  157 

Xavier,  St.  Francis,  235 
Xenophon  quoted,  107,  258 


FINIS. 


THE  ABERDEEN  UNIVERSITY  PRESS  LIMITED 


/ 


\ 


K- 


f 


